Twist of Fate
by Takiira
Summary: A mysterious girl appears before Trunks and Goten claiming to be a saiyan, and while their eyes tell them this can not be so - their instincts and the raw look of vengeance and pain in her eyes tell them there must be something more to her story...
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One 

Street lamps flickered weakly in scattered puddles, their sickly pale glow no great comfort or safety to those who traveled the alleyways that night. A muffled stillness had descended on the city, broken occasionally by drunken carousing or the bark of a dog. Two young men sauntered casually down the sidewalk, speaking in low voices. Their hair and manner of dress might have been enough to stir ridicule in those less wary, but the sword of one and build of both were sufficient to ensure that they were left alone. As it was, the streets were apparently empty but for them. 

"Goten, I hate to say it, but it's getting late and nothing's happening. Why don't we head back?" 

"What, and miss, all the action?" Goten grinned, spreading his arms to the deserted streets. "There's no chance of meeting girls if we're at home." 

"There's not much chance of it here," Trunks said, his eyes searching the shadows. "Given the sort we'd be likely to meet at this late hour, I don't think Bulma or Chichi would approve." He and Goten exchanged a knowing look. 

"Who'd have thought you'd be the goody-goody. Where's your sense of adventure?" 

"Right here," Trunks countered, "It's the adventure that's lacking. I don't see why--" His words trailed into silence and he stopped, closing his eyes in concentration. 

"What is it?" Goten murmured, suddenly cautious. Trunks relaxed, opening his eyes, but he seemed preoccupied. 

"I thought I sensed something, for a moment there," he muttered. "Didn't you feel it?" 

"Not really, no. There's nothing out here strong enough to concern us, Trunks." It sounded like a boast, but in all likelihood was the simple truth. They stood a few moments longer, the silence and apprehension growing oppressive. Goten scuffed his toe on the curb. 

"It was probably nothing. Come on, Trunks, let's go." Goten started forward until Trunks grabbed his arm and hauled him into the shadow of a building. 

"Trunks, what's--" 

Trunks shushed him quickly and peered out into the street. A sudden breeze ruffled puddles and damp newspapers, and Goten shivered, not entirely from the cold. Trunks waved him forward silently and pointed toward an old, boarded-up building. 

A figure detached itself from the tangle of shadows and slid out between the boards on a window. Making its way across the road, it froze and lowered into a combat crouch. In the light of the street lamps it became immediately apparent that this was a human, a young woman, clad in tank-top and leggings, a battered sweatshirt knotted at her waist. Her hair was pulled back into a loose braid, though a few locks had worked themselves free to flutter around her face. She turned and stared towards the spot where the young warriors hid; they hastily drew back into the shadows. 

'Why are we hiding?' Goten wondered, though he nonetheless held his tongue. Trunks was just naturally cautious about some things. 

The girl in the street whirled and looked back the way she'd come. Two men stepped out onto the pavement and spoke softly in threatening tones. She laughed and came out of her crouched pose, though she made no move to join them. Instead, they took a few steps closer to her, each drawing from his pocket a small pistol. More words were exchanged. 

Still in hiding, Trunks considered whether or not to intervene. This could be a mugging or a murder and in either case he didn't want to see it happen, but the girl seemed to know these men, and nothing in her demeanor indicated that she felt threatened. It was puzzling. He looked to Goten, who shook his head slowly. He didn't understand either. 

The sharp crack of a gunshot jolted them back to attention. None of the three in the street had moved, but one of the guns was smoking and a trickle of blood flowed down the girl's arm, welling from a shallow wound on her shoulder. She glanced at it briefly and, grinning, made a disparaging remark about her attacker's aim. The man smiled and cocked his pistol, preparing to fire again. 

The next instant, both men lay on the ground, their guns gone from their hands, their faces bloody. The girl stood again where she'd been before, but was breathing a little harder and no longer smiled. 

Trunks and Goten could only stare. Evidently this young woman had fair enough reason to act so fearless. She bowed her head, fists clenched at her sides, and Trunks could feel her power level rising. She must have been concealing it before, but why? 

'Because of you and Goten,' he thought, 'She may be powerful for a human, but if she can sense power signals at all, she knows she's no match for either of us, and she's afraid.' Trunks watched, expectant and wondering just where this stranger had learned to control ki. 

The men she'd struck staggered to their feet, groaning. With her eyes still closed, she spoke to them. 

"This is your last chance, boys. I'm willing to overlook a little scratch but your persistence irritates me." 

One of the men backed away, much to the consternation of his partner, who roared and launched himself at the girl as though to tear her apart with his bare hands. Calmly she extended an open hand, and in a blast of energy and light, her opponent was reduced to dust. Without changing her pose, she turned her eyes on the other man, who fled, stumbling over his own feet. 

Ignoring him, the girl turned and strode purposefully toward Trunks and Goten. She had either known or guessed their presence and was now set upon dealing with it. The two stepped out to meet her face to face and stood silently a moment, all minds on the same question. Goten asked it first. 

"Who are you?" 

"You may call me Takira. Step into the light where I can see you." 

They stepped forward and suddenly her eyes went wide. 

"Ka--Kakarot?!" She seemed genuinely stunned, but the same could be said for the misidentified Goten; he took another step forward. 

"What did you say?" 

"Kakarot," she sputtered, "The hair, the face, it has to be, but...but you're too young..." 

"I'm not Kakarot, I'm his son, but where did you hear that name? He doesn't use it, himself." Takira looked confused. 

"Well, why not, it's his name. What the hell else would he call himself?" 

"His name is Goku. Nobody calls him Kakarot." 

"--except Vegeta," Trunks added quietly. The girl turned to Trunks as though seeing him for the first time. 

"What do you know of Vegeta?" she asked. "Is he here? On this planet?" 

"He's my father," Trunks answered slowly, "I don't know what business you have with him, but he's long gone from here." 

"Escaped?" 

"Dead." He lowered his eyes; it still hurt to say that. When he looked back into her eyes he saw the same pain there. Strange... 

"Dead?" she whispered. "No. Oh, no. And Kakarot?" She glanced at Goten, who nodded in response to her silent question. 

She shut her eyes as though she could somehow deny the truth of what she'd been told. Her hands trembled; she clenched them to fists, then irritably crossed her arms to keep them hidden. 

"If I may ask again, Takira," Trunks said, "Who are you? How do you know my father?" 

"--and mine?" Goten asked uneasily. 

Taking a breath to steady her nerves, Takira looked each of them in the eye, sizing them up, trying to make her decision. At last, she nodded and turned away, looking over her shoulder to address them. 

"Follow me. I would prefer to discuss this in a more secluded spot. These walls have ears whether you see them or not, and I'd rather this were kept something of a secret." 

With a quick scan to be sure no human eyes were watching, she took to the air. Exchanging looks of confusion, Trunks and Goten followed. 

The night had become a great deal more interesting. 

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

The field was unsually large, barren of anything taller than grass. A clear night sky hung overhead, stars bright, and without shadows to hide her, Trunks and Goten got their first good look at the stranger. 

She was of medium height, compact and muscular; her clothes and hair were dusty, and smudges of dirt marked a face too hard for her seeming age. She stood tall, arms folded, head held high, and for a moment the image reminded Trunks so powerfully of his father that he had to remind himself he didn't know this girl. He and Goten landed in front of her. 

"Interesting location," Goten commented, "If you like wide open spaces so much, why live in the city?" 

"Who says I live there?" she countered. "Instead of jumping to conclusions perhaps you should listen to what I have to say." She paused, frowning pensively. How much to reveal... "What do you know of your father's birthplace?" she asked Goten. 

"Vegetasei?" 

"Yes, that's right. He was born to a lower-class warrior named Bardock." 

Goten nodded. None of this was news to him, but the fact that she knew it was puzzling. 

"Kakarot was not an only child," she continued quickly, "He had an older brother, Raditz: cruel, tough, proud--Saiyan to the core. He also had a sister, though personally I'd be amazed if you'd heard of her." A faint shrug, as though making excuses. "The Saiyan race produced a few female warriors, but by and large the women could not fight as well as the men; it was common practice not to mention one's female relatives." 

"My dad met Raditz once," Goten interjected, "before I was born. I don't think Raditz ever even hinted that Goku had other siblings." 

"Well," Takira snorted, "he never liked me much anyhow. The feeling was mutual." 

"You?!" Goten blinked and received an odd smile. 

"I was coming to that. I was still a child when Kakarot was sent away. I didn't want him to leave," she sighed, "I wanted to go, myself. When they sent him off, I made my decision to leave. 

"There was a training camp, a school, if you will, where the children of the elite trained to become great warriors. In my naivete, I thought I would sneak in and train with them, become an elite fighter, and return to repay Bardock and Raditz for what they'd done." Her tone was vengeful, fired by the anger of old injustice. 

Trunks was appalled. 

"You'd kill your own father?" She gave him a quizzical look. 

"Of course. The only was to settle old scores is with blood. I longed for the day when I could force him to reckon with me. 

"As it was, my attempt to join the elite was quickly discovered." She made a slight face at her naivete. "I was taken in by the local authorities, but not before I killed one of the elite students. For that, I was sent to the palace to await sentence; the man whose son I'd slain had considerable influence at court, and met with the king himself to devise a suitable punishment. 

"Vegeta Ou, for his part, had more pressing matters on his mind. When dealing in planets, it is inevitable that you will have to deal with unsavory characters, but in this case our ruler had entered an agreement he was beginning to regret, with a being he could not afford to anger: Freiza." 

She paused for a moment, gauging their reactions. Goten was entranced; Trunks bore a look of guarded skepticism. For her story to ring true, she would have to not only be Saiyajin, but be close to Vegeta in age, and this girl standing before him was plainly neither. Still, there seemed no other explanation for how she came to know this information--he gestured for her to continue, trying to piece together an explanation. 

"Freiza had ordered a number of planets, and even our worthy warriors were hard-pressed to keep up with his demand. A few of the indigenous races were putting up a stronger resistance than expected, and the result was an unavoidable delay in delivery. As payment, Freiza demanded custody of the king's only son: Vegeta Ouji. Your father, correct?" she asked, glancing at Trunks. He nodded. 

"It was at this point that I was called to make my appearance before the king. The young prince stood at his right hand, the one they called Freiza to his left. They all had that look of superior indifference common to royalty, but in Freiza's eyes I saw a glimmer of something which unnerved me more. 

"Ou's plan was clear enough: to kill two birds with one stone by making Freiza's payment my punishment, by offering me in place of the prince; obviously he was desperate. I forget how he worded the proposal...he neglected to mention that I was the daughter of a third-class fighter, or that I was little more than a common criminal. Freiza came forward and lifted me by the neck to make his inspection. 

Takira shook her head slowly. "I'd never been close to a being that powerful, and that look in his eyes was enough to freeze my blood. When he'd finished inspecting me like a piece of baggage he threw me to the ground and said: 'You insult me, Vegeta. When I demanded your son as payment it was not with an eye toward bargaining. However, since you have seen fit to offer me this girl, I will take her as well.' That was it. He snapped his fingers and two of is attendants led us away. The king could do nothing but swallow his anger and make plans for his son's rescue." 

Takira stopped and drew a breath of the cool night air. 

"Mind if I sit down? I've been on my feet for a couple days now and it's beginning to tell on me." 

"Suit yourself," sad Goten, "I think I'll join you. How about you, Trunks?" 

Trunks remained standing, giving the girl a silent appraisal, before lowering himself to the ground. 

"You don't trust me, do you?" Takira murmured. "Good. If you did, I would question whether you had Saiyan blood in you at all." She smiled, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes. "Ah, but I digress. Allow me to return to the subject of your father. 

"He was something of a brat even then. At the time, he possessed the greatest power of our race, his father included. He was proud, angry at the treatment he had received, and secure in the certainty that his father would return and bring him back to fulfill his destiny. 

"I," she said dryly, "had no such high hopes. We were tossed into one of the lower cells of Freiza's ship, and to my way of thinking it was only a matter of time before we were to be killed. Even if we weren't, it didn't seem likely that we'd ever return to Vegetasei. I didn't know whether to feel angry or relieved. What was I to do?" 

Takira flicked her hand in a vague irritated gesture. "I must have said it aloud inadvertently, because young Vegeta immediately turned to me and snapped 'You'll keep quiet and stop annoying me with your childish babbling! I didn't ask to share this room, and if you keep it up, I won't have to anymore.' He smiled the threat at me. There was little doubt that he could kill me if he wanted, but I saw that as no great loss and I needed some way to vent my frustration, so without another word I slammed my fist into his face." 

Goten looked shocked. Trunks suppressed a smile; Vegeta must have liked that. Takira shrugged. 

"Needless to say he didn't kill me. He just burst out laughing. He said 'You hit like a girl. That's no way to throw a punch,' and without further ado proceeded to teach me what he knew of fighting. He knew a great deal. In retrospect," she mused, "I think he just wanted an excuse to show off, but I was so desperate for something to take my mind off of my predicament that I didn't care. 

"Food and water came at regular intervals, but there was no night or day for us. We took turns sleeping while the other stood guard...against what, I couldn't tell you. Routine kept us from thinking about our situation, but when the subject came up, Vegeta assured me that even as we spoke his father was rallying his finest warriors for a rescue mission. Maybe he could get them to rescue me, too, since I'd done the service of keeping him entertained while he waited for his salvation to arrive. 

"I don't know how long we'd been there when the first messenger came. He said that he was to take me to meet with Lord Freiza. I did what seemed the most logical thing at the time: I killed him. 

"The door to our cell was open, so Vegeta and I could have escaped--but we both knew we wouldn't get far. We decided to make a game of it, see how many guards Freiza would send for us before he realized what was going on. We pulled the body of the first guard out of the doorway and had just stowed it in one corner when the second arrived. When at last Freiza came himself, he found two slit-eyed children perched atop a heap of corpses. He was," she murmured with a dry chuckle, "not entirely amused; he demanded to know which of us had done this. Vegeta answered that we had taken turns, since we were polite children and had been taught to share our toys." Takira smiled. He'd had a sharp tongue even at that tender age. 

"For a moment, Freiza just stared at us. Then he smiled, and, stepping inside, closed the door behind him. 'From you,' he said, pointing to Vegeta, 'I expect this. With that attitude you may go far. However,' now he looked at me, 'you will never be a member of my fighting force, and therefore must learn a little more...respect.' The way he said it let me know full well what I was in for. I sat where I was, trying to control my fear; after all, it couldn't be any worse a beating than I'd had from Raditz, right?" She sighed. 

"How wrong I was. 

"I didn't even see his tail coming; the next thing I knew, it was around my neck. Vegeta tried to attack merely for the sake of a fight; Freiza, not in the mood for games, knocked him out immediately. For me, there was much more in store. He kept his power carefully controlled, so I stayed conscious, awake and in more agony than I would have thought possible. I didn't try to retaliate; I couldn't even stand, much less fight." 

Takira heaved a terse sigh. "I don't know how long it lasted. At last Freiza incinerated the heap of guards with a flick of his fingers and dropped me in a blood-soaked heap next to Vegeta, taking his leave and confident that I'd learned my lesson well." 

For a moment Takira was silent, eyes shut. With a deep breath and a brief shudder she launched into her story again. 

"It must have been something like a week before I could move again. Vegeta spent his time training with the other soldiers; I rarely saw him. Soon he was getting assignments from Freiza, and he grew increasingly sullen when he was around. Once, in a misguided attempt to take his mind off his work, I asked him how long he thought it would be before the king came to rescue us. 

"I realized it was a mistake the moment I said it. He gave me a look that knocked the breath out of me and when he spoke, it came so quietly I had to strain to hear him. 'They're not coming,' he said, 'They tried, and he killed them all, all of them, even my father. Then, the planet. Our planet, he destroyed it, everything, everyone, our entire race--gone.' 

"He didn't cry. He wouldn't let himself mourn the loss, because to mourn it would be to accept it, and accept that he could do nothing about it. He remained, dry-eyed and vengeful, and I think that's when he began to fit the mold Freiza had made for him." She shifted her position stiffly, trying to keep the regret from her voice. 

"Where was your part in all this?" Trunks asked guardedly. "Why would Freiza keep you if you weren't part of his fighting force? You weren't going to help him conquer any planets." 

"I was retained as Vegeta's last link with sanity. He told me the old legends and prophecies about the coming of the next super Saiyan and confided in me all his plans for what he would do to Freiza when he finally achieved that state; and in telling me, it made his dreams seem more real, and gave him the hope he needed to endure. 

"Over the years we became..." She shrugged. "As close as ruler and servant could be expected to. Freiza, of course, found a way to exploit this, too. I became Freiza's weapon against Vegeta. If Vegeta refused orders, or even just failed to carry them out satisfactorily, it was I who was punished, and sometimes he was called to watch. He would not shame our proud race by showing emotion at these events, nor did I wish him to. Whatever we were behind closed doors, we were both warriors before Freiza. 

"...that was Freiza's secret to motivating his soldiers. He made them hate him with a single-minded fury that needed an outlet. He also instilled enough fear in them that they couldn't stand against him. They were left to release their frustrations in battle. It wasn't that they had anything in particular to fight for; they had nothing to gain by their victories. They had nothing to lose but their lives. In place of purpose and conviction all they had was pain, and this they took out on whatever unfortunate victims Freiza chose for them. 

"Don't get me wrong," Takira added hastily, "These were still warriors, and they lived to fight and to kill, but I don't think they would have been so incredibly successful had not Freiza given them a source of hate from which they could draw their power." 

"Clever," Trunks said coolly, "But wouldn't it have been even better to have left those warriors with something to fight for? Some portion of their race left alive? The possibility of returning to their families?" 

"It would have given them more to fight for, certainly, but they would have been more likely to turn against Freiza if they'd had a common purpose like that. Not that Freiza wouldn't have been able to put down a revolt, but it would decrease efficiency, and he wasn't about to allow that. As it was, though, his ranks were still less than optimum. 

"There is no way to gather that many lost souls in one place without problems. Fights were commonplace, deaths just as frequent. Freiza never sought to keep track of how many men he had, not because he was disorganized, but because it would have been nearly impossible. Between the acquisitions as planets were conquered and losses as the result of feuds and simple ill temper, the number of soldiers at Freiza's command was constantly fluctuating. It would have been anarchy but for the common thread of fear which united them all. 

"Amid this chaos I attempted to keep as low a profile as possible. Freiza considered me harmless enough that he didn't keep me locked up. I was given free range of the spaceship with one warning: if I caused trouble, Vegeta would die. It was reason enough for me to behave myself, and I kept occupied by investigating possible escape routes. I didn't think I would ever use them, until they lost contact with Vegeta. 

"It seemed that Raditz had been deployed to planet Earth to place it under Freiza's control; he had other motives as well, but didn't tell Freiza about Kakarot. Since then he had not returned, and it seemed that all was not going as it should have. Vegeta went with Nappa to investigate the situation and finish what Raditz had been sent to do. 

"I didn't know what to do. If Raditz had been defeated, which looked likely, I could guess who had been responsible. If my little brother Kakarot were still alive on earth, and was strong enough to defeat Raditz, then there was no telling what he could do. I didn't want Vegeta to kill my brother, but the only other outcome would be that Vegeta would be killed, and if he died Freiza would have no reason to keep me alive." Takira took a deep breath before continuing. 

"...and I had a very real reason to for which to live." 

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three 

Takira looked at the ground, folding and unfolding her hands as though unsure of how to continue. Goten was confused by her manner: surely whatever came next could be no worse that what she'd already told them. She seemed to have to will herself to keep talking. 

"Soon after Vegeta left," she paused and swallowed hard, "I found out that I was with child: his child." 

Trunks gasped. So many questions suddenly flooded his mind that he had to bite his tongue to keep quiet. Takira spoke nervously, the terrible panic of those days coming back to her all too readily. 

"I knew Vegeta and I would both be killed if Freiza ever found out. In the years following the destruction of planet Vegeta, Freiza had developed an intense fear of the Saiyan race. He'd managed to curb his fear by controlling what he thought to the be the last members of our race, but the thought of a new Saiyan, the possibility that the old prophecy would be fulfilled by one he didn't know, was not to be tolerated. I had no choice but to leave and hope that Vegeta would not be killed for my actions." 

"You escaped?" Goten asked. "Escaped from a ship packed with warriors? How?" 

"That part was actually fairly easy to manage," Takira said ruefully. "With a little gossip and a furtive energy blast I started a brawl at one end of the escape pod bay. The others rushed in to watch like schoolboys on a playground, except for a few of the most loyal, or rather stupid, and those I dispatched easily, taking a small pod and making good my escape." 

"Surely they followed you," said Trunks. Takira shook her head with a faint smile. 

"Masculine pride took care of that. They weren't about to admit that they'd been outwitted by a girl, so they reported that I had been obliterated in the brawl. They would still have to deal with Vegeta, but it was better than facing Freiza's wrath." Her expression turned solemn. 

"I fled. I swore one day I would find Vegeta again, even if it meant returning to Freiza, but first I needed time to bear the child in safety. On a distant planet I gave birth to a son and named him Vegira." 

Trunks could no longer contain himself. 

"You mean my father had another child and didn't even know it?! I have a half-brother, a full-blooded Saiyan?!" 

Takira's jaw clenched as she struggled to maintain her composure. When at last she was able to speak, if was in a faint breathless whisper that she replied: 

"No. You don't." 

Her meaning was plain, and as she bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut against the pain, Trunks felt a sudden surge of pity toward her. 

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and reaching out, placed his hand on her shoulder. 

She jerked back and stared at him. 

"Just what the hell are you doing?" she rasped. Trunks was at a loss. 

"I, I was just--I wanted to--" he stuttered, drawing back his hand. 

"He didn't mean you any harm, Takira," Goten cut in, "It was just a sympathetic gesture." 

Takira looked at him, then back at Trunks, and seemed to be regaining control of herself. 

"Of course. I'm sorry." She sighed. "I guess I have over-developed reflexes. I didn't mean to offend you." 

"It's all right," Trunks answered, "I caught you off-guard is all." 

"Right." She took another deep breath. "Vegira lived and traveled with me as I began my search for news of his father's whereabouts. He was--a beautiful boy, he looked almost exactly like Vegeta had at that age. He was a true Saiyan, and a good thing, too; a child from any less violent a race would not have survived very long. It seemed that every planet we visited was hostile, and my Saiyan armor only served to remind them of Freiza's henchmen. I fought my way from system to system, seeking what information I could, but most didn't know where Freiza's ship had last been seen, and those that knew weren't telling." She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. 

"The events of those years are too numerous for me to relate in one night, and at any rate, have little to do with Kakarot or Vegeta; those are the two you'd most like to hear about, I'm sure, so I'll skip most of my adventures with Vegira save one--the last one." 

She looked bitterly to the heavens as she spoke. 

"The name of that tiny planet or its people are not important; both were near death when I unwittingly landed on its parched surface with my young son. We only meant to land long enough to replenish our supplies and interrogate the locals, but it appeared that we had stumbled into something a little more sinister. This world was already under siege from a member of a race even more bloodthirsty than the Saiyans: they were known simply as the Roc. This one went by the name Koretz, as I later found out. 

"These were not pleasant beings, in terms of temperament or appearance. There was, underneath, a basically humanoid body structure, but in place of skin or hair, the body was covered with armor-like plates, harder than stone and as resilient as living flesh. Claws tipped the fingers and toes, and the skull was flattened, with wide slits for eyes and a heavy jaws packed with filthy pointed teeth. Combined with a heavy lizard-like tail and the overall color of dried blood, the effect was impressive. A Roc's appearance alone is often enough to bring people to their knees, and such was the case on this planet. Koretz, however, was not about to allow them to get away that easily, and was methodically eviscerating each of his victims. When he spied me, he was up to his elbows in blood and had guts draped over him like jewelry. 

"With a broad sweep of his hand he made short work of his remaining victims and flew to where I stood, announcing his name and his business on the planet and demanding to know mine. I had left Vegira back at the ship, cautioning him to stay hidden until I told him it was safe to come out. Standing in the shadow and stench of Koretz, I was glad I had done so. 

"He immediately recognized me as a Saiyan and demanded to know my lineage, a strange request in itself, but he especially wanted to know the names of my siblings, and when I came to Kakarot he nearly fell over in surprise." 

Takira gave Goten a thoughtful look. "It seems your father's victory over Freiza had become the topic of much gossip, even in that backward little corner of the galaxy. Thanks to him, the title 'Saiyan' had become linked with a little awe and a lot of fear. 

"This was the first I'd heard of that battle and I pressed Koretz for specifics, but all told he knew very little. The information had been passed from mouth to ear so many times before reaching him that only the bare bones of the story remained. He had not mentioned Vegeta, leading me to believe that he had either escaped or died in battle. At the moment, however, I didn't have time to think about that. Koretz, still caked with the blood of his last victims, challenged me to a fight; and before I could react, he dealt the first blow. 

"I flew a few hundred feet through the air before I got my bearings and landed on my feet. I charged towards him and at the last second vaulted into the air, aiming a kick for his head. He was faster than I'd thought, and the next thing I knew he had me by the leg, his claws gouging down to the bone. I didn't even have time to scream before he slammed me into the ground. When my vision cleared, I could see him standing over me, fist raised for a deadly blow. 

"I aimed a ki blast at his knees, knocking his feet out from under him and catching him in the stomach with my good leg as he fell. He landed a short distance away and by then I was on my feet again. He was pissed; he'd eaten several of his victims before I'd arrived and my kick to his stomach had left him retching up his meal. I wasn't about to let him recover. 

"Concentrating my ki, I sent an energy ball screaming towards him so fast that he didn't have time to dodge. It hit him full-on, just as I'd planned. The surface of the planet exploded around him, and I could barely hear his scream above the rumbling of the ground beneath my feet. 

"When the dust lifted, he was still crouched there, obviously in pain, and much of the flesh was gone from the arm he'd lifted in an attempt to deflect my attack; but he was still alive, and I had intended to kill him with that blast. I decided it was time to take my Oozaru form and stop playing games. 

"As I began to cast my artificial moon in the dust-choked sky, Koretz launched a huge attack, breaking my concentration. It was too large to deflect, so, abandoning my moon, I aimed at the ground and deflected myself out of its path. I hovered, hoping for a moment to catch my breath. The Roc, for whatever reason, do not like to fly and fight; their preference is for hand-to-hand combat, on the ground. I had no desire to get close enough for hand-to-hand for many reasons, my survival being one of the foremost. He seemed to be waiting for me to come down, and I used the opportunity to complete the formation of my artificial moon. Looking at it, I felt the change begin, like fire in my blood. I felt my bones begin to twist and grow. 

"Amid the churning euphoria of my transformation, I lost track of my opponent. I found him soon enough, though, with his foul teeth buried in my tail as though he were some damned dog! I had him in my hand and was about to crush him to pulp when I heard Vegira scream." 

Takira halted to take a breath. Goten was listening, wide-eyed, and Trunks' whole body was tensed, as though it were he who stood in the heat of battle. 

"I looked up to see my son flying as fast as he could toward me, with another Roc, one with half a tail, in hot pursuit. I easily backhanded the Roc, sending his body careening across the ground, bouncing off boulders right and left. Suddenly, Vegira hurled himself at Koretz, who released my tail to snarl at him. Vegira struck Koretz full in the face, shoving him away from me with tremendous force. However, Koretz managed to grab my tail before getting flung out of range, and when he came to rest beneath an exhausted Vegira, he still clutched my limp tail in his hand. 

"I was back in my old form with no hope of transforming again, I was faced now with two opponents, and Koretz had my son. I didn't give up. With every ounce of fury I could muster, I rocketed toward Koretz, knocking him away from Vegira. Before he could hit the ground I was on him, fighting for all I was worth. I knew Vegira couldn't defend himself; he was too young, and he'd used all his energy on his attack on Koretz. I was his only hope. 

"The other Roc had recovered from the blow I'd dealt him, and advanced on Vegeta again. Desperate, I launched a ki blast toward him with one hand, while I attempted to block Koretz's furious onslaught with the other. I was only partially successful. Even as the second Roc was blown away from Vegira, Koretz's fist landed in the middle of my chest, driving the breath from my lungs and crushing all of my ribs. I couldn't draw breath to scream, and so I could only watch in horror as Vegira tried to come to my aid again, throwing himself at Koretz. Koretz caught him easily, he--" Takira's fists began to clench spasmodically as she struggled to continue, "he tore him open. My son's blood spilled over my face as Koretz ripped out and swallowed his still-beating heart." She choked and fell silent, grinding her teeth. 

Trunks felt nearly ill. He saw Goten bury his face in his hands and knew he must feel even worse. Goku had always advocated mercy for one's enemies; this sort of gruesome sport was utterly foreign to him or his family. Goten would probably have nightmares for a month. In a voice thick with rage and pain, Takira finished the tale. 

"It was more than I could bear. I lost all reason. I knew I was doomed; I couldn't possibly survive in my condition, but I didn't care. With the last strength in my broken body I blasted Koretz in the face. He fell back, roaring in pain and anger. Howling curses at me, he kicked me in the head so hard I felt it tearing from my body. 

"I died, of course," she said quietly, "My body died, that is. To this day I'm not quite sure of what happened, but my soul traveled to this planet and planted itself in the body of a young human female, badly beaten, who had been left on the streets for dead. Pure Saiyan willpower sustained her, and she lived, a human's weakling body fueled by a Saiyan's unconquerable soul. That is the body you see before you tonight." She began to calm down, forcing herself to breathe slowly. 

"Whatever the setbacks, my goal was still first to locate Vegeta, and I hoped he would help me avenge the death of our son. I trained this body hard, trying to regain some shadow of my old power, while I sought to establish contacts with other 'non-locals'. 

"In the meantime I had to eat, though, and soon found myself part of an unpleasant business from which I have recently released myself: those two men you saw earlier tonight were the last to try and hold me to old contracts." 

With a heavy sigh, she seemed to deflate, as though the story had drained her life-force away. She fumbled awkwardly with a grass stem, then finally looked up. 

"That's it. That's what brought me to this point; I didn't think I'd ever tell another living soul. If what you two say is true, then my purpose is clear: to seek my revenge on Koretz for the death of Vegira." 

"Is that all life is for you?" asked Trunks, "Just a search for vengeance?" Takira stared coldly. 

"Take away vengeance and what do I have to fight for? Apart from my anger, what do I have to keep me alive? This is my goal, my purpose." 

"No offense," Goten said nervously, "but how do you intend to exact your revenge? I mean, this guy defeated you as a Saiyan and now--" he trailed off, cringing as though waiting for a blow. 

"How is not my problem," Takira spat, "I know damned good and well there's no chance in hell of avenging Vegira's death; but the point is that I'll try, you hear me? Sure, it's impossible. Sure, I'll die before I accomplish my goal, but by all that's holy, I'll die * trying *!" She glared at them both, breathing hard, blinking back tears of rage. 

Trunks said nothing, though he understood her anger. He knew how it felt to tackle a seemingly impossible task, with your only hope being to go down fighting. He knew the desperation. He also knew that sometimes--sometimes those battles could be won, despite the odds. 

As though from a great distance he heard himself say: "I'll help you, Takira." 

There was a moment of dead silence as Takira and Goten both gave Trunks the same blank, disbelieving stare. After several unsuccessful attempts at speech, Takira managed to spit out one word. 

"What?!" 

Trunks returned her gaze coolly, refusing to betray the nervousness he felt. 

"I said I'll help you. I'll help you train, and if we find this creature, I'll help you fight. If he did that to my half-brother, then he owes me a debt of blood as well." 

"Are you insane?" Goten shouted, finally finding his voice. "Trunks listen to yourself! It's one thing to want to help out, but what you're suggesting is mercenary work. You're above search-and-destroy missions; damn it, you're too good for that!" 

"--and maybe I don't want your help," Takira cut in icily. "I didn't come to you looking for charity. I don't need your pity, your sympathy, or your help." 

"Then why did you bother telling us your story?" Trunks countered. 

"So that you would know a little more about your father's past, and so you," she said, turning to Goten, "could see what sort of life your father escaped when he was sent here all those years ago." 

"So what now?" Trunks asked. 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, what happens now? Goten and I return home and you go back to living on the streets until you're perforated by enough bullets that you die? Is that it? What a glorious future to look forward to," he spat. 

Goten was dumbstruck. It wasn't like Trunks to be this callous or sarcastic. He looked back and forth between Takira and Trunks, trying to figure out what was going on. Takira was tense, glaring intensely at Trunks. 

"What are you getting at?" she growled. 

"Come stay with me, with my family. I want to see what kind of power you really have. I'll help you train, teach you what I know, and when you're strong enough to tackle your objective, we'll see if you still want it." He got to his feet and held his hand out to her, refusing to break eye contact. "You have nothing to lose by this, Takira, and a great deal to gain. As for me, I'll admit I'm curious to know more of the battles you fought when you were traveling with Vegira. I'm sure I could learn a few things." 

Takira stood on her own and backed a step away from his proffered hand. She looked him up and down once, then shook her head sadly. 

"Young man, you don't know what you're getting into. Your power level is the highest I've seen since Freiza, and I'm sure you're both excellent fighters," she said, with a nod toward Goten, "but what do you know of space travel? Of fighting strange people on strange planets? Of dealing with creatures that would kill you as soon as look at you? Have either of you ever even left this planet?" 

Goten make a choking sound and covered his mouth with his hand. Takira gave him a questioning look and he snorted, snickered, then finally gave up and burst out laughing. Trunks broke into a wide grin and raised an eyebrow at Takira. 

"I think you may be surprised at the level and, er, volume of our experience. Remember what you said about jumping to conclusions?" 

"Oh?" she said flippantly, "Then tell me about your--experience." 

"Tomorrow," he said, and jabbed a finger toward the earth. "Here. Early midmorning, say, a couple hours after dawn? Come ready to spar, because after you hear our stories, we'll pit our experiences against each other in a fair fight." 

"Not to the death," added Goten. "I'm sure that's your custom, but this isn't a life-or-death situation. Anyway," he looked at the sky, "there aren't that many hours to go between now and then. I'm heading home and Trunks, I suggest you do the same." He smirked. "Bulma's gonna skin you alive as it is." 

Trunks laughed. "You're right, but at least she doesn't go after me with a frying pan!" He turned to Takira. "We're leaving. You're welcome to stay at my place, I'm sure my mother won't mind." 

"No," Takira replied, making a formal little bow, "Thank you, but no--I must retrieve something from my place of residence before I return here." 

"Then you're coming back," he said with a faint smile. 

"Maybe," she answered, without one, and in the blink of an eye, shot skyward, heading back to the city. Standing in the chill starlight, Trunks and Goten watched her go. Goten gave a low whistle and shook his head. 

"Well, that's the weirdest story I've heard in a while. What did you think?" Trunks frowned pensively and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Strange, yes, even a little bizarre, but for some reason, I believe her." 

Goten nodded. After a few moments more in silent contemplation, the two friends took to the air and headed for home. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four 

"So, she told you her story in confidence and the first thing you do is run and tell me?" Gohan's mouth quirked at the irony. 

"Well, it only made sense," Goten said defensively, "If she's really dad's sister, then she's related to you just as much as she is to me. Besides, I know she'll want to hear all about the battle with Freiza, and you were there! Trunks and I just heard about it, we wouldn't be able to give her details like you could." 

"Okay, stop the sales pitch already," Gohan laughed, "I'm here, aren't I?" He stretched out his arms to indicate the huge empty field. 

"You are--but where is she?" 

"She'll be here," Trunks murmured, "Soon. I know it." 

Gohan turned and squinted in the direction of the city. "Hmm. Well, Trunks, you may just be right. I think I see her now." He pointed. "Man, she's coming fast. What's her hurry? We're not going anywhere." Trunks spoke up suddenly. 

"You know what, guys, maybe I'd better meet her partway and explain why we've added a third to our party," he said, glancing at Gohan, "So she doesn't get any ideas about trying to kill you." 

"Fair enough. Go ahead, Goten and I will wait here." 

Trunks flew upward and intercepted her. Nothing in her appearance seemed to have changed, until he noticed with a shock the things she'd brought from her "place of residence." A wide leather strap, arranged diagonally across her chest, secured to her back a double scabbard, housing two samurai swords, a katana and a shorter wakazishi, the grips wrapped in well-oiled but obviously long-used leather. Takira gave Trunks a lopsided grin. 

"Guess you're not the only one with a preference for bladed weapons, hmm?" 

"Guess not," he said. "Before you go any further allow me to explain the other man down there with Goten. That's Gohan, his older brother. We told him your story; we figured as Goku, er, Kakarot's other son, he had a right to know." 

"Nice of you to ask my permission," Takira huffed, "How many kids does Kakarot have, anyhow?" 

"Just those two, unless you count his daughter-in-law, Gohan's wife." 

"No Saiyan blood?" asked Takira. 

"Um--no, she's human." 

"Then she doesn't count." Takira paused. "Well, now that I've been briefed, can we get down there? I'm ready to go; I haven't had a real fight in a long time." 

"Fight? We were going to talk first." 

"I know, but I get the feeling that once I hear your story, I won't be able to think of much else for a while, and that would hamper my fighting skills. Besides, this way I enter the fight with no preconceived notions and you can't try to psyche me out ahead of time." 

Trunks sighed. "Fine, okay. I can see there's no arguing with you, so let's go." He led the way and formally introduced Takira to Gohan. 

"Pleased to meet you," he said politely. Takira only nodded, eyeing him. The whole setup looked suspiciously like a trap to her. 

"So," she said, rubbing her hands together eagerly, "This is as good a battlefield as any. Who's up first?" 

"I'll go," Trunks offered as he unsheathed his sword. "I'd like to see if you know how to use those things," he said with a nod toward the scabbard on her back. Takira grinned at the challenge and drew both her swords. As they prepared to square off, Gohan spoke up. 

"I don't know if this is a good idea. I didn't come out here to watch you two slash each other to bits." Goten nodded, looked worried. 

"Ah, ye of little faith," sighed Takira, "You don't carry these things if you can't control them, right Trunks?" 

Trunks nodded. "I have to agree with her there, guys. There's no guarantee that nobody will get hurt, but if we both agree to strive * not * to kill each other," he said emphatically, with a serious look at Takira, "the chances of real injury are pretty slim." 

Gohan was still clearly uncomfortable, but decided to let it go. 

"Okay, you win. But at the first sign of blood, you stop. Got it?" Both combatants nodded, and Gohan seemed a little more satisfied. "All right. I don't want to have to intervene." 

"Fine, fine, can we get on with it?" Takira cried impatiently. She gestured with her katana. "You two scoot back and give us a little room. Wouldn't want to accidentally lop off your heads." She grinned. 

Gohan and Goten exchanged apprehensive looks and backed away. Satisfied at last, Takira turned to face Trunks. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I think we can start now." 

"Gladly." With that, Trunks leaped at Takira, bringing his sword down for her neck. She deflected it with the wakazishi, and with the katana, slashed at his legs. He darted out of the way and broke free, landing behind her. She turned and jumped for him, but instead of raising both blades for an attack, she planted the tip of the katana in the dirt and used it to swing herself around, dealing Trunks a brutal double-kick in the face and using the wakazishi to deflect his sword again, though she only barely managed it. Tugging her katana from the dirt, she faced him again, swords crossed in front of her. 

Trunks rubbed his aching jaw. "Not bad," he said, "For a warm-up." 

"That's all it was," she assured him. "There's a lot more where that came from." 

The battle began in earnest, as a series of furious skirmishes marked by the sound of clashing metal. Takira used her two swords as extensions of her arms, manipulating them with accuracy and precision. Trunks, however, had size and strength on his side, and Takira was pressed to the limits of her strength to parry his heavy blows. 

At times is seemed that Trunks was winning; then Takira would take the upper hand for a while. As the battle dragged on with no clear winner, the two fighters began trying riskier attacks to see if they could catch their opponent off-guard. With a savage clang, Trunks knocked the wakazishi from Takira's hand and rose into the air to attack. Instead of retreating, Takira lunged forward, bringing her katana across in a wide arc. Trunks managed to twist his body out of the path of her blade and immediately swung downward to where Takira now crouched on the ground, reaching for her wakazishi. She leaped aside, Trunks' sword coming within a hair's-breadth of her before slamming into the ground. When the two faced off again, Takira had both her swords. 

Gohan and Goten watched from the sidelines, wincing at close calls and gasping at the apparently matched skill of the pair. They both knew that Trunks was holding back for Takira's sake, though. Whatever soul possessed it, her body was nevertheless human, and had its limitations. She was certainly holding her own, however; several of her attacks had caught Trunks by surprise, forcing him to take evasive action to escape. 

It seemed like the fight could go on forever, and Gohan considered whether he should call for an end to it. Just then he saw Trunks' expression change from simple concentration to deadly intent, and Gohan knew he meant to end the fight with his next attack. 'Look out, Takira,' Gohan thought to himself, 'You'd better hope Trunks is as good at controlling that sword as he thinks he is.' 

Goten glanced at Takira. She'd had that sort of half-smile on her face the whole fight, but it was beginning to look more like a grimace. Suddenly she went serious, her jaw set and eyes stony. Tightening her grip on her weapons, she lunged forward to meet Trunks' final attack. 

The conflict was suddenly much more close-contact, and neither opponent backed away. In a flurry of flashing steel and flailing limbs the battle reached its climax--and froze. 

Takira stood stock-still, breathing hard. The tip of Trunks' sword dimpled the fabric of her shirt below her breastbone. One good thrust would drive it through heart and lungs and out her back, but she was smiling--because Trunks couldn't move either. With the katana at his stomach and the wakazishi at his throat, one wrong move could leave him simultaneously eviscerated and exsanguinated. A grudging smile touched his lips. 

"What do you say we call it a draw for now?" 

"Okay," Takira said breathlessly. She drew back, re-sheathed her swords and propped her hands on her knees while she caught her breath. She look up at Trunks, frustrated. 

"I didn't even really make you work, did I? Damn this weak little human body. If I'd had my Saiyan body back, you'd be as good as dead." 

"Don't count on it," said Gohan as he walked over to them. "If you'd made it too hard on him, he could have just transformed." 

"Transformed?" Takira was confused. "But--he doesn't have a tail! How can you transform without a tail?" 

Goten grinned. "By going super Saiyan, of course." 

Takira's jaw dropped. "You mean--the legend--those things Koretz said about Kakarot--they're all true? A super Saiyan does exist?" 

"More than one, actually," said Trunks, "Sit down and we'll tell you all about it."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five 

   Shael sighed, idly cracking his knuckles. Halfway through his twenty-third watch and not a damn thing happening. He was rapidly growing weary of the predictability of his lifestyle, but he knew better than to complain too loudly. The monotony was beginning to tell on every one aboard, but especially their squad leader. He'd already killed two of the crew for "insubordination"; their only crime was being near him when he was in one of his foul moods, but they should have known better anyhow. Shael had been successful in avoiding the surly captain so far, and had his fingers crossed that he'd be able to keep it up. 

   Scraps of old meals--bones and dried bits of flesh--littered his console. He frowned and brushed them to the floor. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the console, claws clicking rhythmically against the metal. He leaned back in the chair and was about to doze off when an electronic screech from the computer jerked him back to consciousness. His eyes scanned the screens with practiced speed, instantly focusing on the anomaly that had triggered the sensors. His fingers flew over the console, bringing up the information he needed. Could it be, could it be--yes! 

"Got you, you little bastard," he muttered, triumphantly stabbing the keys. A moment later the computer bleeped: target found and locked--tracking sequence initiated. 

Adrenaline raced through Shael as he ran toward the squad leader's quarters. The doors were closed, of course, and outside, slumped on the floor, lay Fespa, asleep and drooling. He was one of the lucky few whose presence their leader tolerated, so he acted as a go-between for captain and crew. Shael kicked him awake. Fespa blinked groggily. 

"Hm? Huh--what?" 

"Fespa! Wake up, you fool, we've got him! Tell the captain, damn it, he wanted to know the moment we locked on." Shael was nearly dancing with excitement. "You understand me, Fespa?! We've finally got the sorry son of a bitch!!" 

Fespa lurched to his feet, much surprised, and plunged through the chamber doors to break the news to the squad leader. It was a tense moment for Shael, waiting outside the doors; Fespa's voice was too soft for him to hear, but suddenly he heard the rude bellow of Koretz's laughter. The grinning squad leader burst through the doors and pinned Shael with a triumphant gaze. 

"We've * got * 'im!" 

***** 

Mordrig scribbled furiously, filling page after page. The pen kept running out of ink no matter how fiercely he jabbed it in the inkwell. Suddenly it wouldn't write at all. 

"What the hell?" Mordrig upended the inkwell. It was empty. Again. 

Cursing loudly, he rifled through cabinets and drawers, fumbling with the latches. "Damn clumsy hands," he snarled. This was almost more trouble than it was worth. At last he gave up, and, holding the pen in his writing hand, stabbed his other arm until the blood flowed warmly off his fingers. With a sigh, he held the inkwell beneath his dripping hand, catching enough blood to fill it. 

"About damn time!" He flicked his hand irritably, spattering droplets of blood over everything in the immediate vicinity. He wrinkled his nose in distaste; he hadn't meant to do that. Oh, well, carry on. 

"So it's not the tidiest record in the universe," he muttered to himself as he continued writing, "It's good enough for me. It'll be plenty useful when the time comes." He smiled for a moment, letting the dream overtake him, then forced himself back to his page. 

"Only five more hours in this one," he hissed. "Work, damn it, work!" 

***** 

Takira's head was reeling. It was almost too much, all this revelation: super Saiyans, fusion, androids, creating and destroying worlds with little more than a word--incredible. The power wielded by even just the three that sat with her was beyond her wildest dreams, and to hear them talk of Kakarot--and Vegeta. Heroes in their own ways, but now both destined to fade into legend. 

'Oh, Vegeta,' she thought, 'If only I could have been there with you.' Hastily she pushed such thoughts aside. It was useless to make wishes about the past. Wishes for the future were the only ones with any hope of coming true--ah, yes, there was that also. 

Dragonballs, magical spheres that could be used to summon Shenlong, the eternal dragon, for any wish in his power. He could even raise the dead. If not for that power, Vegeta would not have survived the battle against Freiza. 

The implications were staggering. Yet here these young half-Saiyans sat, placidly dictating these events as if they were just so much humdrum daily activity. If what they said was true(and in a way she hoped it was), any one of them could have killed her any time they wished, with minimal effort. The fact that she was still alive could mean that they did not intend to kill her, which would be a hopeful sign. Of course, they could just be toying with her, and would kill her when they got bored, but if that was the case, she had might as well enjoy what was left of her life. 

Her mind was moving a mile a minute. If she could persuade even one of them to accompany her on her search for Koretz, oh, how glorious it would be. She'd make sure his screams were heard galaxies away! She-- 

"Takira?" She came back from her daydream with a start. 

"Huh? Were you saying something?" Trunks sighed. 

"I said, why don't you come with us and we'll show you around my mom's place, Capsule Corp. It's huge. There's some very interesting technology there, some of which think would be of considerable interest to you." 

Too much, it was all too much-- 'Focus! Can't trust them, not even an inch--' 

"All right," she said wearily, "So long as I can leave whenever I want." 

"Okay," said Trunks. It seemed like an odd request, but was probably just her way of ensuring that she had a way out if the situation got too much for her. "Let's go." 

Flying, it would not take long to reach Capsule Corp. headquarters, cutting through the city to its outskirts where the compound lay, but Gohan insisted that they only fly to the edge of the city and walk the rest of the way so as not to cause any undue confusion among the general populace. Takira grumbled about having to spare the sensibilities of pathetic, weak-minded earthlings, but nonetheless landed with the other three and walked with them. Her eyes never stopped moving, taking in every detail. Goten couldn't help but notice. 

"I thought you worked in the city, Takira?" 

"I do--I mean did. Why?" 

"Well, you're staring at it like it's all so new." Takira shook her head. 

"I've just never seen it by daylight before. I did all my work at night." She kicked at dandelions as they walked through the park in the center of town, scattering pigeons. 

"What sort of work did you do?" Gohan asked. Takira snorted derisively. 

"I killed people. It was the only job in which I had considerable experience." Gohan stared at her. He'd suspected as much, of course, but hadn't expected her to admit it so easily, and without the slightest trace of remorse. He was about to take issue with that when Takira interrupted. 

"Spare me your preaching; these were no innocents that I killed. I'm a little surprised that you'd be so squeamish, though, you're half Saiyan, aren't you?" 

"That may be so, but I don't share that race's lust for carnage. I have fought, and killed as well, but not for a living and certainly never for fun," Gohan answered darkly. Takira made no comment. She was busy unbraiding her hair. 

"What are you doing?" asked Trunks. She slipped out of her scabbard and handed it to him. 

"Here. Hold this for a minute. I'll be right back." She dashed over to the fountain that stood in the center of the park, and stood under the falling water, using her hands to scrub her face and hair. Hopping out, she spun in a fast pirouette, scattering water in all directions. 

A few of the locals, sitting on park benches, peered curiously over their newspapers at her, but decided it was better not to ask, and returned to their reading. Pulling her hair back into its braid again, she rejoined the group, taking her scabbard from the bewildered Trunks and slipping it over her head. 

"I figured if I were going to set foot in your home I'd better clean up first. This is the most convenient shower in town." She grinned at their confusion. 

"Um, okay," said Goten, "Let's get going, then; we're not that far now. Hey, Gohan, is Pan going to be there?" Gohan shook his head. 

"She's staying with Chichi and Videl back at home. She asked to go, but Chichi and Videl both said no. I guess they wanted the company or something." He shrugged. 

Goten was disappointed. He'd hoped that Pan would be there. She was just fun to be around. She was like a little sister to Trunks and him. He'd wanted to tell her about Takira when he told Gohan, but decided against it. Takira had seemed peeved that he'd even told Gohan, and Goten didn't wish to antagonize her. 

"I guess it'll just be Bulma, Bra, and Yamcha," Trunks said. Yamcha had come to live with Bulma shortly after Vegeta's death. In a way, he was like a member of the family now. 

"These are other warriors?" asked Takira. 

"Yamcha is. Bulma and Bra--not exactly." Trunks smiled as he tried to picture his mother or sister in battle gear. 

"Don't let him fool you. Bulma's brought many a valiant fighter to his knees," Goten snickered. "She has her own brand of power." Takira looked skeptical. 

An enormous complex loomed ahead of them, dwarfing the people who walked past it. Trunks led them around to the back entrance. Once they were inside, it didn't look quite so huge, but was still a sizable structure by any standard. Hallways and elevators led to different areas around the main atrium. 

Two blue-haired women came forward to greet them. One was younger than Trunks; the other was older. Aside from the disparity in age, they might have been twins. Trunks introduced them and to his surprise Takira even shook hands, though it looked forced. In the face of two such outgoing bubbly personalities, Takira looked like she wanted to be sick. Bulma turned and yelled at the man who sat by a window, reading a magazine. 

"Yamcha! Where are your manners? Get your sorry tail over here, we have a guest!" Yamcha looked startled. 

"What? Oops, I'm sorry, I didn't notice you guys coming in. What's up? Hi, I'm Yamcha," he said with a smile at the newcomer, "and you are--" 

"Takira," she supplied. "Some place you've got here." 

"Thanks," said Bulma. "It's my daddy's, actually, but he and mom are gone for a week on a cruise, so I've got the place to myself. I'm thinking of holding a huge party, you know, a few hundred of my closest friends and music fit to shake the chandeliers. Cool, huh?" 

"Um-hmm." 'Vegeta married * this *? Maybe he sustained a head injury while on Namek. Maybe returning from the dead changed his personality,' Takira thought to herself. 

"You look thoughtful, kiddo," said Bulma, "What's on your mind?" 

"I was just thinking of how happy you and Vegeta must have been here," Takira lied. She was pretty sure Bulma didn't want to hear what she was really thinking. Bulma, however, was still surprised. 

"How did you know about Vegeta?" Takira, realizing her error, had to think fast. 

"Um, Trunks told me. I was commending his fighting skills and he hold me he'd gotten them from his father." 

"Oh." The answer seemed to satisfy Bulma. 

"How long were you married?" 

"You know, that's kind of funny," Bulma said, "We were never legally married. We lived like it, of course, but Vegeta had some sort of mental block against it. I asked him why and he gave me this," she reached under her shirt and drew out a necklace. "He said when I found another like it, I would have my answer." She shrugged. "He seemed kind of upset by it, so I didn't ask questions after that, though I did wear the necklace. Want to see it? Here." She pulled it over her head and held it out. 

Takira took it gingerly, as though it might break. It was quite simple, no more than a round stone on a coarse string, but the stone itself was stunning. It seemed to reflect every color at once when the light hit it. 

"A dragontear," Takira whispered, letting it rest in her palm. 

"What?" 

"This stone, it's a dragontear," she said softly. "They're very rare." 

"Wow, how about that. Where do you suppose Vegeta got it?" Bulma mused. Takira shrugged and handed the necklace back to her. In reality, Takira knew exactly where Vegeta had gotten the stone. 

Freiza had been secretly fond of visible wealth, and had a small hoard of precious jewelry that he kept aboard to the spaceship. As a child, one of Vegeta's assignments had been to stand guard over the jewels, and from a string of dragontears, he had managed to remove two without anyone the wiser. One he wore around his neck; that was the one Bulma now possessed. 

The other he had given to Takira as a reminder of the tears they'd shared. She had worn it close to her heart until her death. It seemed that Vegeta had intended to do the same. 

"Yeah," Bulma sighed, "Trunks gets his fighting skills from Vegeta. I couldn't win a fight against a punching bag, myself. You'd think it would be easier with weapons, right? I tried lifting Trunks' sword once; I could barely get it off the ground! Those things are so hard to maneuver." 

"I think she knows that, mom," Bra spoke up. She'd walked around behind Takira and was peering intently at the swords. She reached out to touch them. "May I?" 

"For your own safety, don't," answered Takira shortly. 

Bra sighed in frustration. "Just like Trunks. What is it about swords that no one will let me near them?" 

"Like she told you," Trunks said, "It's for your own safety." 

"You mean you don't want her to cut herself, or you'll kill her if she touches your weapons?" asked Yamcha with a sly grin. 

"Both," Takira and Trunks answered in unison. Goten laughed. 

"Well, that's convinced me," he said, "I'm not going near 'em." Bra was not so amused; she pouted. Trunks decided to change the subject. 

"Mom, is that time chamber still functional?" 

"I think so, why?" 

"Well, Takira is looking for new ways of training, and I'm fairly sure she's never tried anything like that." 

"You sure she's up to it?" Gohan asked. Takira glared at him, and he hastily explained, "I mean no offense, Takira, I just mean it's not something humans use to train." 

"Well I don't see why it wouldn't work," Bulma said thoughtfully. "I could recalibrate it for your strength." She looked critically at Takira. "We'll have to measure your power level somehow. I'll bet I can whip something up. We'll need a ballpark figure, though--" She cast a sidelong glance at Yamcha, who began to back away. 

"Why me?" he wailed. "Let one of these young bucks take her on." 

"Why? Are you scared?" asked Takira, with a mocking smile. Yamcha shifted on his feet uncomfortably. 

"Well, no, but--I just don't see why I automatically get volunteered." 

"It's a matter of percentages, honey," Bulma explained. "You're the only 100% human here who knows how to fight." 

"So?" 

"So if you go instead of the half-Saiyans, it's more likely to be a fair fight." 

"You mean she's more likely to win. I'm no spring chicken these days, but I'm way too young to die." 

"Yamcha, you have my vow that I will not kill you," Takira pronounced solemnly. 

"Thanks," he said uneasily, "You mean until just now you were going to kill me?" 

"The thought had crossed my mind," Takira answered, then grunted as Trunks elbowed her in the ribs. "What?" 

"Well," Bulma interrupted briskly, "Let's get this project going. Takira, you and Yamcha can stretch and warm up while I see if I can dig up that old scouter. With a few quick modifications, I'm sure it'll do nicely." She bustled out of the room. 

"Just to be sure we get a fair reading, Takira," Goten said, "I'd suggest you work without benefit of your swords." Yamcha nodded emphatically in agreement. 

"Sure, why not, they've already had their workout today." She smiled at Trunks. 

"What do you mean? You fought with Trunks? When was this?" 

"Earlier this morning," she said to the confused Yamcha, "which is why I don't really need to warm up now." 

"Ah. So who won and who ended up dead?" 

"In the end, I was dead." Then she grinned. "But Trunks was dead * twice *." 

"Huh?" Yamcha looked at Trunks, who shook his head. 

"Don't worry about it. Come on, let's see what mom's got up her sleeve."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six 

Koretz wasn't sure which was worse: the physical incompetence of his crew or their awesome stupidity. Communications with the main fleet had gone down because two of the fools had gotten in a fight and smashed into the communications board, and now fights were breaking out over how to fix it. This was no way to run a ship. 

"If I'd had enough sense, I would've come by myself and left these idiots back on Geo," he muttered. Their home planet needed them more. With their numbers decimated, the royal guard was wide open for attack, and the Roc had many enemies. Their only hope was to finish this mission and return before Geo's vulnerability became widely known. 

Koretz sighed and scratched his block-like jaw. It was, to his way of thinking, entirely unnecessary to bring this many fighters for this "war". It was a war of extremely limited scope, not usually a good idea, but the king had declared it, and there was no turning back now. At least they'd finally locked on to the bastard and were beginning to close in. Another few days of sitting around, waiting, and he would have gone bezerk. He'd heard the rumor spreading among his crew that in fact he already had gone crazy. 

He didn't really care. On any more prestigious a mission he would have kept a tighter rein on his underlings, but their numbers made it difficult and his own apathy made it impossible. He just couldn't get motivated for an action this petty. Why was it **his** job to kill this guy? Let the next poor saps he attacked deal with him. 

He heard a loud crunch, followed by a rash of angry shouts, coming from the communications room. Growling, he headed for the noise. He'd had about enough of this crap. He needed a little bloodshed to soothe his nerves and ease his mind. 

The two who'd been fighting scattered as he entered the room. Only brave Fespa remained by the console, his expression worried. 

"We did everything we could, sir," he said. "As near as any of us can tell, the machine has been fixed and is in perfect working order, but it won't transmit, and the computer can't even give us a specific error." 

"So between you three sacks of shit and this damned computer," Koretz roared, "not **one** of you knows what the hell is going on? A full day's work and **that's** your answer?" 

Fespa was unruffled. "Sir, our best guess is that we're receiving external interference. It could be incidental, or it could be that someone's tapped into our system and is wreaking havoc." 

"Any other systems affected?" 

"Not so far." 

"If the tracking system goes down--" 

"It won't, sir." 

"--life as you know it will end." 

"Yes, sir." 

Koretz sighed. "How long until you can give me a definite cause on this interference thing?" 

"I really couldn't tell you, sir." Koretz lashed out suddenly, kicking Fespa in the side, claws digging parallel gashes in the lieutenant's thick hide. 

"How about now, worm?" Koretz hissed. Fespa gritted his teeth in pain and shook his head. Koretz took a step closer, towering over the injured warrior. 

"Are you sure?" he murmured threateningly. Fespa lifted his hands in a gesture of supplication. 

"There's just no way to tell, sir." 

Koretz rammed his fist into Fespa's throat, crushing the windpipe. Fespa squeaked through his damaged larynx, eyes wide as he struggled for air. Red froth bubbled around his mouth as he slumped to the ground. Koretz turned to the remaining two. 

"You have six hours to get this thing back online!" he shouted. "Move!" They scuttled forward and peered at the screens again, trying to look busily engaged in their work. Koretz grabbed Fespa's corpse by the tail and dragged it out of the room with him. The two at the console looked up in time to see Fespa's bloodied head disappear from view, along with the scarred stump of Koretz's tail. 

***** 

When Mordrig awoke, he was himself again. Sitting up, he made a quick assessment of his mottled blue-grey limbs and found them to be in satisfactory condition, aside from a slight ache in the arm he'd stabbed for ink. With a moan, he rose to his feet and ran his hands over his face, tracing the scars with his fingers. His whole body was covered with scars; they intermeshed in cryptic patterns on his skin. 

"An occupational hazard, I suppose," he sighed, and rummaged through the papers that littered the floor, trying to put them in order. He slapped a blank sheet over the top and applied a fastener to one corner, making a crude book. On the cover sheet, he scrawled "Sentarn" and walked along the wall until he came to the small door marked R-S. Opening it, he drew out heaps of papers and shuffled through them, muttering aloud to himself. 

"Roc, Runkin, Rykal, Saiyan, Satel, here we go: Sentarn." Slipping the new file carefully into the pile, he replaced the heap and shut the door gently. Turning, he surveyed the rest of the room. 

"What a mess," he groaned. "I don't have time for this." He strode into the other room, seating himself before the flickering screens. They should have been glowing brightly. 'Damn interference,' he thought, fiddling with the dials. Turning to the other side of the console, he stubbed his toe on something. With a breathy curse, he picked it up: a rock, a souvenir from his most recent venture. He'd forgotten that he'd kept it. He tossed it aside. Billions more like it were floating out there now. 

Squinting, he managed to make out the tracking signal, faint, but thankfully still holding. He was heading in the right direction. Satisfied, he returned to his library for a little research. Pulling out his chosen file, a well-thumbed packet, he sat cross-legged on the floor to read(his chair was drenched in ink and blood and had not yet dried). His lips moved silently with the words as he sped through each hastily-written paragraph. He slowed down when he came to the important parts, reading and rereading to be sure he had it right. At last he closed the packet and shut his eyes, willing his mind to absorb the information. He smiled. 

"Vegeta."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven 

At last the final preparations were in place. Yamcha and Takira stood face-to-face in a large, heavily-reinforced room. Through a pane of glass, the others watched from the next room, Bulma seated at the console, the remains of the scouter suspended by a bundle of cords in front of her. The others stood around her, careful not to bump the equipment. Trunks had been trusted with Takira's scabbard. Bulma pushed the button for the intercom and spoke to Takira and Yamcha. 

"Okay, folks, I think we're ready to roll here. The scanner's locked on you, Takira, and it'll feed it's readings into the computer, which will give me all the data I need about your power level. Do your best, just don't kill Yamcha, got it?" Takira nodded. Yamcha tried to work the kinks out of his neck. "Whenever you're ready, you two. Go to it." 

Takira and Yamcha squared off warily, circling. 

"You want me to work up to my full power or just bring it on hard and fast?" asked Takira. 

"Your choice. You're the guest, after all," Yamcha joked. 

Takira smiled, suddenly flying forward and kicking Yamcha hard in the chest, laying him out flat on his back with a cry of surprise. She leaped, preparing to land on him. Without getting up from his prone position, Yamcha held out his hands and launched an energy sphere. Takira dodged it easily, but it set her off-course and she abandoned the attack, instead flying over him into a handspring. Turning in midair, she prepared to attack again, but he was already on his feet and ready. 

As she jumped for him, he dodged aside and kicked, catching her in the stomach and knocking the wind out of her. Turning a somersault, she landed a short distance away, gasping for breath. Yamcha lunged forward, fists flying. Takira managed to block his punches, but he was driving her backward; soon she was up against the wall. Pushing off of it, she shot forward, straight for Yamcha's head. He ducked, but not fast enough; she grabbed him by the arm and jerked him off his feet without slowing her forward motion. Flying towards the other side of the room, she swung him around in front of her. He slammed back against the wall, and she landed feet-first on his chest an instant later. He choked, spitting a little blood as she pushed off him, flipping to land lightly on her feet. 

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glaring at her. 

"You think you've won already, don't you? Don't get too cocky, girl, I'm only using a fraction of my power." 

"I know," she said smugly, "So am I." 

Yamcha began to concentrate, feeling the energy flowing through his body. It had been a while, he thought to himself. He'd forgotten how good it felt to power up. He smiled: he'd show this newcomer a thing or two. 

Takira, too, was raising her power level, unsure of whether to go for her maximum now or later. She glanced at the viewing window and saw Bulma fiddling with her console. Ostensibly this fight was just to measure Takira's power level, so perhaps she ought to get it over with and max out now. If nothing else, she wanted to beat this warrior soundly, to prove she was worthy of taking on the half-Saiyans. She didn't like the implication that she was just another human, too weak for rigorous training. 

In the other room, an awkward silence had descended. 

"So how does it look?" asked Trunks. Bulma squinted at the screen. 

"Well, Yamcha looks like he's about at max power. Takira's a little below him, but her power's still rising slowly. I don't know if she'll top him, though." 

Leaning forward, Trunks pressed the intercom button and addressed Takira. 

"Come on, is that the best you can do? You're a disgrace to your race! I could outperform that when I was four years old!" Bulma shoved him away from the intercom. 

"Trunks, what do you think you're doing?" 

"Giving a little motivation." He grinned. "Take a look at her power level now." 

Bulma gasped. Takira's reading had shot upwards and was now edging above that of Yamcha, continuing to rise. An aura had begun to form around her as her jaw clenched and fists tightened. She was pissed. She pinned Trunks with a lethal glare, then turned back to Yamcha, gathering her energy. 

"Trunks, I'm beginning to wish you hadn't done that," Bulma moaned. "Whatever she may have promised, I'll bet she's forgotten it now." 

"No," he said softly. "She's mad at me, not Yamcha. She won't kill him." 

"Maybe she won't," said Goten, "but if I were you I'd think twice about giving her back her swords." Trunks smiled, still watching the action. 

Yamcha decided not to draw out this battle any longer than necessary. He'd knock her out and declare himself the winner, then get the heck out of there before she had a chance to recover. He didn't like the look in her eyes. Raising his hands above his head, he formed a sphere with all the energy he could spare. 'Let's see her dodge this,' he thought with a grim smile. 

Takira watched, expressionless, as he prepared the attack. She didn't try to stop him, didn't even seem to be forming an attack of her own. When he prepared to launch the powerful sphere, she didn't flinch, didn't move aside, only crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her head to absorb the blast. 

"What's she doing?!" Gohan panicked. "She'll be killed! She may be strong but she can't take a hit like that!" 

The energy ball hit Takira full-on, exploding in a blinding burst of light. Yamcha had to brace against the force of the blast, shielding his eyes. The windows of the building shuddered and rattled. 

A few wisps of smoke rose from the tile floor, weaving delicately upwards to wind around Takira: still standing, virtually unscathed. With an evil grin, she stepped forward, her body sideways to Yamcha, raising an open hand toward him. A tiny ball of light formed in her palm and an instant later the far wall was all but obliterated. Yamcha, fortunately, had managed to dodge the blast, but was badly bruised and a little winded. He backed away, chest heaving. 

"This is crazy," he panted, "I don't think even Krillin has power like that. I could be wrong of course, but somehow I doubt it." He sank to his knees, wheezing. 

Takira looked at him, and almost seemed to be contemplating finishing him off, when Bulma cut in on the intercom, voice shaky. 

"Uh, o-okay, Takira, I think that'll do," she stuttered. Takira smiled. 

"I thought as much," she murmured. 

She walked into the observation room, taking her scabbard from Trunks, while Bra ran out to help Yamcha to his feet. He waved her back irritably, declaring he was fine, just needed a second to catch is breath, was all. 

"So how's it look?" Takira asked. 

"Well," squeaked Bulma, trying to slow her galloping pulse, "it'll take me a little while to interpret the data, but based on what we've seen, I'm not sure any alterations to the chamber will be necessary. You may want to hit the gravity room first, though, just to be sure." 

"Gravity room?" 

"Artificial," Trunks explained. "You can set the room for up to five hundred times normal gravity. Training becomes more difficult in the increased gravity, and you can adjust it upwards as your strength grows." 

"Sounds good," Takira said. "Let's go." 

"Hang on," said Bulma, "What's the big rush? Relax, you're not going anywhere soon." Takira tensed like a hunted animal. 

"What do you mean?" She looked at each of the people who surrounded her. Bulma put a hand on her shoulder and she nearly backhanded the woman. She had to hold her fist in her other hand to restrain herself. 

The look in Bulma's eyes was kind. "Don't be upset. Trunks told me you'd been living on the streets and asked if you could stay with us. We'd be glad to have you. There's a spare room upstairs with a balcony and a wonderful view that I'm sure you'd like. You can stay here as long as you want; there will be plenty of time for training." 

Takira drew away slowly until she was backed into a corner. She stared accusingly at Trunks, then glared at Gohan and Goten for good measure. She could feel claustrophobia closing in. She had to get out of there. If they forced her to stay, she'd probably kill someone. 

Just then Bra and Yamcha came and stood in the doorway. 

"Yamcha's going to go lie down for a bit," Bra announced. Bulma looked at Yamcha, then back at Takira. 

"You need some bandages, Yamcha. Come with me and I'll patch you up. Bra, you come too." Bra looked suspiciously at the others, obviously smelling a conspiracy, but didn't protest, and helped her mother lead the protesting Yamcha away. Gohan closed the door behind them. 

"Just what are you trying to pull?" Takira hissed at Trunks. He looked indignant. 

"Takira, I don't see what the problem is, here. You need a place to stay; we've got a ton of empty rooms serving no better purpose. This is where all the training tools are, and unlike your place in town, it's not a condemned building. Vegeta was willing to stay here; give me one good reason why you can't." 

Takira said nothing. She looked like she wanted to kill, or die herself. Neither seemed a feasible option. 

"I'm not trying to trap you," Trunks continued softly. "I promised you earlier that you could leave whenever you wished, and my offer still stands. I won't hold you back if you truly want to go, but look beyond your stubborn Saiyan pride for a moment, and I think you'll see why you should stay here." He lowered his eyes, waiting. He heard Takira utter a string of curses under her breath. At last she looked up, sighed, and managed to force herself to whisper: 

"Show me this room." 

Trunks suppressed a smile of relief and gestured for her to follow him as he left the room. Gohan and Goten brought up the rear, on guard in case she changed her mind and decided to bolt. 

***** 

"It's always been a guest room, basically," Trunks said as he showed her around. "My father stayed here for a while, before he got together with Bulma." 

Takira moved soundlessly around the room and stepped out onto the balcony, breathing in the fresh air. 

Bulma stuck her head in. "Gohan, Goten, Yamcha wants to talk to you; he sent me to tell you. How's it going up here?" She craned her neck to catch a glimpse of Takira. 

"We're fine, mom." With a quick glance to be sure Takira wasn't watching, Trunks waved his hand at Bulma to shoo her away. She nodded. 

"Well, I'll let you guys settle in, then. Come downstairs when you're ready; I'll get lunch on the table." She ducked out, followed by Gohan and Goten. Shutting the door quietly, Trunks turned to see Takira peering beneath the bed. Reaching under, she pulled out an old piece of Saiyan armor, vest-like, heavily scratched, and broken through in two places. She held it up in front of her. 

"That was my father's," Trunks commented, coming behind her to look at it, "It saw a lot of battle before he finally got a new one. I should have guessed he'd keep it; it's sort of a trophy of all those old fights." 

Takira laid it on the bed, running her fingers over the scratches and dents. Her shoulders began to shake, and Trunks realized with alarm that she was crying. He wasn't sure what to do. 

"Takira--" he said helplessly. She gave him a panicked look and hastily brushed the tears from her face, sniffling. 

"Sorry," she choked, "I'm--being stupid--" In a decisive movement, he caught her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him, praying she wouldn't attack him for it. She just looked startled. 

"He was my father, Takira; I mourn his death as well as you do. It's okay to cry for him." Summoning his courage, he drew her into his embrace, resting his cheek on her hair. She stiffened for a moment, then wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as though he were her last hope in the world. 

When at last she drew back from him, her hands were trembling slightly. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and used the sleeve of her sweatshirt to dry her tears. She looked at the floor, embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You'd think I'd be over it by now--" 

"What are you talking about? You just found out last night." She looked up at him. 

"For a race as accustomed to death as the Saiyans, that is ample time." 

"I'm not so sure," he answered. "I've known a few Saiyans in my time, and none were so hard-hearted. I like to think they were better off that way." 

Takira shrugged, still sniffling. Turning back to the armor, she placed it tenderly back under the bed and stood, heaving a deep sigh. 

"I suppose we ought to get going?" she murmured. 

"Probably. Before Bulma starts screaming." She returned his smile. 

***** 

"I said, who is she?" Yamcha asked again, getting annoyed. Gohan and Goten weren't usually this secretive. Goten looked frustrated. 

"Yamcha, I wish to kami I could tell you, but I can't." 

"Come on, guys, what's with the vow of silence? Don't you trust me?" 

"We trust you," said Gohan, "but it's fair to say she doesn't, and therein lies the difficulty. She has, well, an unusual history, and it's not something she wants just anyone to know." 

"It looks like she'll be staying here," Goten offered, "Maybe after she gets to know you a little more, she'll tell you herself." 

"Fat chance," Yamcha muttered, disgusted. "I'll be lucky if she doesn't kill me. Did you see the look on her face when she fired that final attack? The only other person I've seen with that look is Vegeta, and it was always when he was about to kill someone! Am I the only person made just a little nervous by this girl?" 

"I understand where you're coming from, Yamcha," said Gohan, "but I don't think you have anything to fear from her." 

"That's easy for you guys to say; you could always transform and defend yourselves. What's a human to do, huh?" He shook his head gravely. "I tell you, that girl is dangerous. Don't turn your backs on her for a second." 

"We don't intend to," Goten assured him. "Have a little faith. Trunks seems to trust her, and he's always been a good judge of character." 

Yamcha snorted. "Are you sure he's being completely objective?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Only that his judgement might be swayed by a pretty face." 

"Not Trunks," Gohan said decisively. "Goten, maybe, but not Trunks." Goten gave his brother an ungrateful look, and Gohan smiled. 

Bra stuck her head in the door. "Mom says come to lunch, guys." 

"Tell her we'll be right there," Yamcha called. When she'd left, he turned back to Gohan and Goten. "We can talk more about this later. In the meantime, be careful." They nodded, and headed downstairs.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight 

'All systems functional' the screen read smugly. Shael felt a sudden urge to ram his fist into it, but knew he didn't dare. He sighed and looked to Dolmit, who only shrugged. 

"I don't like it," he grumbled. "It looks awfully suspicious to me, but which of us is going to tell the captain?" 

Shael shook his head. "We'll just write it off as a coincidence. It seems innocent enough." 

"No. He may be a raving lunatic but he's not stupid. Planets don't just blow up out of the clear blue. He'll know, and I'll bet my life someone on this ship will die for it." 

"If you're willing to bet your life," Shael argued, "then you tell him." 

"Forget it. My life's nothing to cheer about, but I'm not willing to give it up completely. I wish to hell he hadn't killed Fespa. Fespa knew how to deal with him." 

"Evidently not," Shael uttered dryly, "or he wouldn't be dead now." He paused and glanced at the clock. "Looks like our time is up. Ready to die?" 

"Not really," Dolmit muttered. "You know, we don't have to just take whatever he gives us. We could fight him." 

"Are you kidding? Start a mutiny and stand in the way of his chosen mission? He'll do worse than kill you for that." 

"Chosen mission? Shael, none of us chose to be here, least of all Koretz. Why do you think he's in such a violent mood?" 

"Oh, I'll bet he wanted to come. After what that guy did to his tail, I'm sure he's just itching for revenge. He's probably in a bitchy mood because he's having to wait so long for it." Dolmit was unconvinced, but decided not to argue further. Shael was obviously quite sure of his views. Dolmit stood and headed for the door. 

"Let's go find him," he said, sounding none too thrilled at the prospect. As he walked through the door he nearly ran into Koretz, who'd been standing just outside--listening. Dolmit felt a sudden overwhelming sense of dread. Koretz grimaced, but it couldn't really be called a smile. He shoved Dolmit back into the room to stand beside a stunned Shael. For once, Koretz didn't shout. When he spoke, his voice was low, deadly, and somehow much more frightening than his usual tirade. 

"I will not tolerate this kind of gossip," he growled. "My objectives on this mission are of no concern to you or any other member of my crew, and neither is my sanity. What bothers me more is your apparent ignorance of the fact that you are both obligated to report all your findings to me directly, and I heard you just now. You were trying to come up with some lie to save your own worthless carcasses! 

"Geo can spare no more warriors. Fespa was a useless weakling, but you are both experienced fighters, and for that alone I now grant you your lives. If I hear any more of this insubordination, however," he lifted an open hand, "I will reclaim those lives!" He clenched his hand into a tight fist. A trickle of blood came from where his claws had pierced his own skin. With a hard look at the two before him, he turned and stormed away. 

Dolmit and Shael sighed in unison, a sigh of relief. They hadn't expected Koretz to hear them talking, but the fact that he'd spared their lives was even more surprising. Neither had any illusions of the captain's generosity; they lived only because of the sad state of affairs on their home planet. 

"Never thought it would feel so good to be alive," Shael breathed. Dolmit nodded, still unable to speak. He peered at the computer; it had begun to make a faint hissing sound. With a sharp crackle, a fuzzy, gravelly voice filled the room. 

"Stupid fxxxing piece of junk, I kxxxsf have hkkkk--" 

Astonished, Dolmit punched the transmit button and shouted into the speaker. 

"M45 do you read me? This is SP3, do you read me, over!" He looked anxiously at Shael. 

"S-ffff-three? Where the kxft hell hafffk you been? Whfft is this?" 

"Dolmit, sir, I'm part of the crew. A planet exploded nearby and the energy burst knocked out our communications systems. This is the first we've heard from you." 

"Can't kxxxderstand you, fzzk talking kkkx fast. Where's zzzft damn captain?" 

Dolmit frantically motioned to Shael, who was already halfway out the door, running to retrieve their squad leader. 

"He's coming. Please hold." 

"Hsst fxxxk get hskk ass moving." 

"Yes, sir." 

Koretz entered the room, Shael at his heels. 

"All right, you two: out." 

"Yes, sir." They left hurriedly. Koretz pressed the transmit button. 

"You still there M45?" 

"Hks course I'm kxxx here. Where the fhkx were you?" 

"We lost communications. An explosion nearby. What news from the mothership?" 

"Xxxks hkkk found him?" 

"Yes. We're locked on, and tracking." 

"Good. Do ykkk know whxxxx hekx headed?" 

"I can only guess, but--" 

"Hkk guess is as good kkkhz any." 

"I'd say he's heading for Earth." 

"Why kxxxsh do that?" 

"I think there's someone there he wants to meet." 

"Who?" 

"A Saiyan." 

"Hkxs thought he hkk done with Saiyans." 

"Not quite." 

"Don't knxxxk what the hell kstff mean. Just kkfoceed acxxkding to plan." 

"Yes, sir." 

"M45 sxxxing off." 

"Roger." 

Koretz shut off the transmitter, his mind on what he's seen and heard that fateful day. His stump of a tail ached as though remembering its own pain. He sighed. 

"Kakarot, whoever you are," he muttered, "I hope to hell you know what you're in for." 


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine ******

The lunchtime conversation was pleasantly topical, and Takira remained quiet throughout, despite repeated attempts to draw her into conversation. When the last of the dishes had been cleared, Gohan announced that he had to be getting back to Chichi, Videl, and Pan back home. 

"You coming, Goten?" 

"I might stay here a little longer, if that's okay." 

"Sure, just try to be home before midnight this time, okay?" He smiled at Takira. 

"Don't worry," she said, "I promise not to keep the boys up past their bedtime." She grinned. 

"I've got some shopping to do," said Bra, "Mom, did you want to come?" 

"No thanks, I think I might take a nap. For some reason I'm awfully tired today, know what I mean, Yamcha?" He gave her a worldly smile that showed he knew exactly what she meant. 

"Trunks can go with you into town, Bra," Bulma added. Trunks looked sorely disappointed; so did Bra. 

"Come on, mom, I'm old enough to go shopping by myself, I don't need an escort!" 

"She's right, you know," Trunks chimed in, "It's really not necessary for me to go. I mean, I'd bring Goten and Takira along, too, and we'd just hold Bra back." Bra nodded emphatically. Finally Bulma gave in. 

"All right, all right, go ahead by yourself then. Just make sure you have your keys, don't forget your purse, don't talk to strangers--" 

"Mom, give it a rest!" Bra exclaimed, exasperated. Yamcha turned to Trunks and Goten. 

"So, what'll you guys be doing?" Trunks shrugged. 

"I thought maybe we'd give Takira a little tour of the place, maybe do a little more sparring--" 

"I'm sure we'll think of plenty to do," assured Goten. "If you wanted to join us, Yamcha--" 

"I think I'll pass this time. The idea of a nap really appeals to me." He smiled at Bulma. 

"Say no more," Goten grinned. "We'll leave you to it." 

"Well, I'm off," said Bra, having gathered keys, purse, and walking shoes. She breezed out the door. 

"Me, too," added Bulma. "You coming, Yamcha?" 

"You bet." Side by side, they left. 

"I'll get going as well," said Gohan. "It was good to meet you, Takira, and I hope to see more of you in the future. Maybe someday you can make yourself known to more than just us three? You have a family here, if only you'll admit it." Takira shook her head sadly. 

"You're very kind, but I don't anticipate that sort of announcement. At least, I wouldn't get my hopes up, if I were you." 

"Well, it's your decision. You three stay out of trouble, okay?" He wagged an admonishing finger at them. 

"We'll try," said Goten, "but we make no guarantees." 

"Don't I know it. Have fun, anyhow. See you later." He exited, leaving the three youths alone in the room. 

"So," said Takira, "What do we do first?" 

"I know," Goten interrupted excitedly, "There's an arena, down in the basement, that's perfect for a little one-on-one. Trunks and Yamcha have had their turns, but I want to see how good you are." 

"How about it, Trunks?" Takira asked, "You could act as referee. Then you can decide what we do next." Trunks agreed, and the three descended into the basement. The air was cool and damp, and as Trunks turned on the lights they saw the enormous arena, perfectly flat and open except for the occasional I-beam support. The ceiling was quite high, steel crossbeams strung with cobwebs. 

"It's sort of a multi-purpose testing area," Trunks explained. "Capsule Corp. uses it to try out new products, but Goten and I have found it to be an excellent location for a sparring match." 

"Looks good," said Takira. "Come on, Goten, let's go, that is, if you think you're up to it," she challenged. 

"You bet," he said, "but I'd like to make a request: no swords." 

"I'll allow it on the sole condition that you don't transform," Takira countered. 

"Sounds fair. Are you going to leave your scabbard with Trunks again?" 

"If he doesn't mind--" 

"Not at all," said Trunks, "Hand them over. Would it be all right if I looked at them? I promise not to do any damage, but they're a lot different than mine, and I want to see if the feel is much different." 

"I'm sure it is," Takira replied uneasily, "but if you have to see for yourself--well, I guess you can take them for a whirl. Just don't try anything fancy and dull the blades, okay?" 

"Yes, sir." Trunks saluted, then dodged the punch Takira aimed at him. "Save it for Goten," he protested, "He's the one you're fighting, remember?" 

After one last swipe at Trunks, Takira turned to Goten. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" 

"You got it." Goten began to power up, muscles bulging. No playing around this time. They'd get straight to business. 

Takira struggled a bit with her power level. She knew Goten would be more of a challenge than Yamcha, and unlike Yamcha, she wouldn't be able to catch him off-guard with her power. She concentrated on Trunks' taunting, on her own anger. Half-Saiyan or not, she'd show this kid what she was made of. 

At last the two were ready, and Goten made the first move, rushing in to level a kick at Takira's head. She ducked and countered with a kick of her own, but he caught her by the leg, throwing her off-balance. With her other leg, she bashed him in the face and he released her, staggered backwards--and then he disappeared. 

Takira was dumbfounded. Where the hell had he gone? She looked around warily, then sensed the ki behind her, too late. He struck her in the back, sending her sprawling across the tile. She rolled and leaped to her feet to find him gone again; but when he appeared behind her this time, she was ready, and elbowed him hard in the gut. As she turned to face him, he swung for her face, and she pulled back too slowly; his fist clipped her cheekbone, snapping her head sideways. She aimed her fist at his throat and he caught it in one hand. She caught his clenched fist in her other hand and they stood face-to-face, hand-to-hand, bracing their feet into the floor as each tried to push the other back with ki alone. 

Takira strained, clenching her jaw. Goten was quite strong, almost certainly stronger than she was, but that wasn't a concern for her. As a Saiyan she had won battles against opponents stronger than herself. Often it came down to which combatant had a greater will to live--or in this case, a greater will to win. Takira was sure it was she who would ultimately prevail. 

Goten, however, had yet to break a sweat. After fighting killer androids, this was hardly even a challenge. He was a little disappointed. He knew Takira was in a human body, but he'd sort of hoped she'd have some Saiyan power. With a blast of energy he flung her away. 

She caught herself almost immediately, and lunged for him. He ducked, but instead of sailing over his head, she brought up her knee into his face. He grunted as he was thrown backwards. She punched him in the stomach, sending him crashing to the floor. She formed an energy sphere in one hand and launched it at him; quickly he rolled out of the way, the blast just missing him. The next moment he was on his feet, facing Takira. He brought his hands together, almost in the attitude of prayer. 

"This is a little trick you may want to learn someday, Takira," he murmured. 

"Ka--me--" 

Takira crouched, bracing for the attack. 

"Ha--me--" 

She crossed her arms before her. 

"Ha!" With an explosion of light, Goten fired. Takira stayed on her feet, but the blast shoved her back, her feet digging into the floor. Her aura was actually holding off the full force of the blast, but it was degrading fast. Another few moments and she'd be blasted away, and the fight would be lost. 

"No!" she roared, summoning her rage. She was a born fighter, she would not allow herself to be beaten by this half-breed punk! With a sudden blast of her own, she deflected Goten's attack back at him, surprising him. He managed to dodge, but barely, and the force of the explosion shook the building. 

"How did you do that?" he gasped. 

"I was about to ask you the same question," she muttered hoarsely, struggling for breath. Angry, she had to get angry. 'Think of being trapped in this pitiful human body,' she thought, 'Think of these youngsters having more power than you dreamed of as an adult. Think of Koretz. Think of Vegira.' She could feel her power build. 

Goten stood watching her, trying to decide whether to wait for her attack or hit her again before she had a chance to gather it. He no longer had the kamehameha as an ace in the hole. She had deflected it once, she could probably do it again. He saw her adopt that stance again, arm extended, palm open, and he knew the decision had been made for him. With a warrior's cry, Takira launched her attack. 

Fortunately Goten was still powered up from the kamehameha. It almost took more energy than he had to deflect the attack, but he managed, if only barely. He didn't want to give her a chance to form another attack like that, not if he wasn't allowed to transform. He leaped for her. 

In the rapid exchange that followed, both fighters landed a few blows, but most were blocked. The two broke apart into another stand-off. After a moment, Takira smiled and walked forward, her manner casual. Goten lowered his fists, confused. Was she giving up the fight? She stood a mere hand's-breadth from him, looking him in the eye. 

"I think it's time I showed you something." She lifted her hands to either side of his head. "It's a little technique I developed as a Saiyan and perfected as a human." She closed her eyes and suddenly Goten screamed, the pain unimaginable but his body paralyzed, powerless to push her away. A few moments later Takira released him and he fell to the ground, gasping. Immediately Trunks was at his side. 

"Goten, are you okay?!" 

"I--I think so," he sputtered. "I just--feel so weak--" He heard Takira chuckle. Trunks stood, facing her. 

"What did you do to him?" he demanded. 

"I drained his power. Not all of it, not by a long shot, just enough to make him a little more manageable, and me a little stronger." 

"What?! How could you?" 

"Now, now," she interrupted, "Before you get too upset, let me assure you the effects are strictly temporary. I'd say in another ten minutes, Goten will be back to his usual robust self and I will return to my status as a weakling human. I haven't learned yet how to make the change permanent." Goten cringed. 

"Good thing," he muttered with a groan. Trunks tried to help him to his feet, but Goten waved him away. "Don't bother, I'll just lie here until my strength returns. I don't want to stand up until the room stops spinning. That 'technique' of hers packs quite a wallop." 

Trunks nodded and turned to Takira. "Need I say--" 

"--that I'm not to use that technique again on any of you. I know. I don't make a habit of using it as it is, but I wanted to test it on someone stronger than me." 

"Well, it worked," Trunks retorted. "Are you satisfied?" 

"Quite," she replied, "though I don't see why you're so upset. Goten's going to be fine." 

"She's right, Trunks," Goten said, getting up stiffly. "I'm feeling better by the minute, though I think I'm finished sparring for today. What'll we do next?" 

"Well, unless Takira wants to fight some more--" She shook her head wearily and he suddenly noticed that her lip was bleeding and she was developing a black eye. The fights hadn't been entirely effortless for her. "--we could show her around Capsule Corp.; that is, assuming it's not demolished by now. The kamehameha is not an attack usually used indoors." Goten looked sheepish, but not really penitent. 

"I'm not back up to full power yet, but I think I could take on a leisurely walk," he said. "Lead the way, Trunks."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten 

After a more relaxing afternoon and an effortless dinner(Yamcha ordered pizza), the evening began to draw to a close. Goten was sent on his way, and Bulma, Yamcha, and Bra retired to their respective rooms. Trunks and Takira stood on her balcony, watching the stars. 

"Bulma was right," Takira said, "The view is wonderful from here." 

"Hmm. It's even better by daylight. You can actually see things." 

Takira gave him a questioning look. "You're not still mad at me for what I did to Goten, are you?" 

"No," he sighed. "I wasn't really mad at you then, either; I was just worried about Goten. The way he screamed, I thought he was dying." 

"He probably felt like it; he'll be plenty sore tomorrow, but no worse than I'll be after that kameha--what was it?" 

"Kamehameha. It was one of his father's favorite attacks." 

"I can see why," she muttered. "That one nearly took me out." 

"Is that why you drained his energy?" 

"Not exactly. Mostly, I just wanted to see if I could, and I knew he was strong enough to handle it, even if you weren't convinced." 

"I know, it's silly to worry about him, but we've fought together so many times we kind of look out for each other, you know?" He paused. "No, I guess you wouldn't." 

"On the contrary," she said, "It was actually fairly common back on planet Vegeta, though no one admitted to it. All told, few warriors fight alone all the time. Often it's impossible, and it's almost always impractical." 

"What about you, then?" he asked. She sighed. 

"I'm an impractical fighter, I suppose. I rarely had anyone to fight alongside me." 

"What about Vegeta?" He said it gently, hoping not to offend her. 

"We never got the chance to fight together. We were going to, of course, once he'd defeated Freiza. We were going to rebuild the Saiyan race, track down all of Freiza's kind and wipe them out--oh, we had such plans. 

"I left before I could fight at his side. After that I had Vegira with me, but he was too young to fight. He only tried once--and never again." Trunks could see her hands clutched on the railing, knuckles white. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I shouldn't have brought it up." 

"No, go ahead, it's the only way I'll get over this. I've shed my tears for Vegira, but for some reason, even after all those years, I managed to convince myself that Vegeta was still alive, that I could find him--and prove that I hadn't failed him completely." 

"Failed?" 

"By leaving before he returned from his mission, not being there for him. I abandoned him and couldn't even protect his child. Now that I've made it to his home to make my apologies, I find it's too late. 

"I'm glad he found your mother and had a family, especially a son as strong as you. He deserved such happiness; he deserved far better than he got from me." 

Trunks was silent, drumming his fingers on the railing. Suddenly, he turned to face Takira, and after and awkward moment, managed to ask the question that had been plaguing him since he'd first heard her story. 

"I mean no insult, Takira, truly, but if I may ask--what did you see in my father? In the time that I knew him, he eventually learned to care for others, even to love, but he gave the impression that he hadn't until then. What was he like, to stir such powerful feelings in you?" Takira gave careful thought to her answer before replying. 

"He was the embodiment of my own feelings: anger, frustrated ambition, blind hope and faith. He also possessed the strength of body and will that I lacked, and yet--there was a certain vulnerability to him, if you knew where to look. I think that's why he came to depend on me as he did; he needed someone to whom he could show that other side, someone who understood him well enough to see why it needed to be kept a secret. 

"Don't get the wrong impression. He was never what you would call an openly loving man. He was a Saiyan, and more importantly was raised as a Saiyan. He could have wanted to be lovingly gushy with all his heart--and he had a heart--but it would have gone against the very essence of his upbringing. His heart may have wanted it, but his soul could never reconcile it. 

"So you see," she murmured, "he **did** care for you, probably more than he was capable of expressing." Trunks looked up, surprised. How had she known what he was thinking? As though fighting her own instincts, Takira placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye. 

"Your father was probably the most complex character you could ever hope to meet, but I know this much to be true: one of the dreams he held closest to his heart was to have an heir, a son, a fighter whose raw power and skill would eventually surpass his own. You are the fulfillment of his every wish. Don't let anything convince you otherwise." Slowly, she drew her hand away. 

Trunks was stunned, and oddly touched. He hadn't expected Takira to be so--sentimental. Suddenly, it made sense to him. She and Vegeta had become two parts of a whole; he'd been the model of impenetrable strength, and she had taken upon herself his "weakness". 

"I think I understand now," Trunks said softly. "Why he acted the way he did, the way you feel pain so keenly--and why you two were so inseparable. You feel lost without him, don't you?" Wordlessly, Takira nodded. She hated to admit it. 

"Well, you've just been found," Trunks continued. "He didn't take your strength with him when he died. It's in you somewhere, and it's up to you to find it. I'll help you any way I can; now that I know my father, I'd like to meet you." 

"I'm glad one of us does," she murmured. Squaring her shoulders, she attempted to shake off the mood. "Well, Trunks, I could talk all night, but you'd better get going before Bulma burns me at the stake for trying to lead you astray." Trunks snorted. Bulma did tend to be a little overprotective, but he didn't think she'd dare challenge the likes of Takira. Bidding her goodnight, he took his leave, returning to his room. He was about to change for bed when he heard a faint tapping at his window. Curious, he drew back the curtains and uttered a strangled cry of surprise to see Goten hovering outside. Trunks opened the window and Goten rushed inside, looking nervous. 

"Goten, what are you doing here?" 

"I sneaked out of the house--" 

"Gohan's going to kill you!" 

"--at Gohan's request," Goten finished. He took a deep breath and related his news. 

"Kaio-sama woke Gohan out of a dead sleep to warn him of imminent danger. There are two spaceships headed for Earth. The first is small, only one person aboard, and Kaio-sama couldn't identify him; but by reading his thoughts, found out that he was searching for Vegeta." Trunks frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. 

"The other," Goten continued, "is larger, with a captain and full crew. They appear to be in pursuit of the first ship. Their captain's name is Koretz." 

Trunks' breath caught in his throat. Koretz? The one who'd killed Takira and her son? Why was he coming? Rather, Trunks thought, what did the first ship want with Vegeta? He turned to Goten. 

"You think this may have something to do with Takira?" 

"It's possible that it's unrelated, but if anyone is likely to know what's going on, I'll bet it's her." 

"She would have told us if she knew she was being followed," Trunks protested. 

"I'm not trying to make assumptions, Trunks. Assumptions won't help; facts will, and for those, I suggest we go to Takira." 

"Tomorrow morning?" Goten shrugged anxiously. 

"I don't know if we have that kind of time. I only know what Gohan told me before he sent me off, but I think there's definitely some urgency here," he sighed, "otherwise I could have waited until tomorrow to tell you." 

"Well, then we'd better not waste any time. Come on." 

"Trunks, I should really be getting back home before I'm missed. Why do I have to come? She likes you better!" Trunks gave him a disgruntled look. 

"Come on, Goten." He left. Grumbling, Goten followed, catching up to him as he knocked lightly on Takira's door. There was no answer. 

"She must be asleep. I hate to wake her, but--" Stealthily, they entered the room. The lights were out, but a pale gleam of moonlight shone in the windows and it soon became clear that Takira, whatever her reasons, was nowhere to be found. Goten scratched his head. 

"I don't understand. Where would she go?" he wondered aloud. 

"You don't suppose she knows already, do you?" 

"How could she know? She must have just decided to leave. You didn't scare her away, did you?" Goten had meant it as a joke, but the look on Trunks' face made him regret the statement. Trunks looked out to the balcony. 

"That must be it," he whispered. "I did it. I cornered her and she ran away. Damn it!" He clenched his fists as though looking for something to pound. "Of all the stupid, thoughtless--Goten, we have to find her!" 

Goten was taken aback by Trunks' impassioned curses, and wondered if perhaps Yamcha had been right. Regardless, though, he could not refuse his friend. 

"Okay, Trunks, we'll find her. She can't have gone far. She probably headed back to the city. We can look there first. Just keep quiet! If Bulma finds out we've gone she'll tell Chichi, and we'll both be as good as dead!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven ******

Takira lay quietly on the placid hilltop, trying to absorb some of the night's serenity. She'd return to Capsule Corp. before morning, but right now she needed the solitude. Her mind felt like a scattered ruin of thoughts and feelings. She had revealed far more to Trunks than she'd intended, and he had guessed even more. That kid was too damn perceptive for his own good. 

She sighed. Despite all her attempts to deny and avoid it, she did feel like part of her had gone with Vegeta. She could put on a brave show, but inside, she knew: the power, the passion just wasn't there. If only she'd stayed hidden that night--was it only last night? It seemed like a lifetime ago. If only she'd turned away from those strangely familiar faces, she could have spent the rest of her days in blissful ignorance; not this torture. 

She rolled over and pressed her cheek into the cool damp grass. She couldn't bring herself to regret all of it: the look on Trunks' face when she was able to tell him unequivocally that his father had wanted him for a son. It seemed strange to her, somehow. How could the boy have Saiyan blood and still be openly sensitive to such things? 'The same could be asked of you,' she reminded herself harshly. No wonder the Saiyan race was demolished, if it was beginning to produce such soft warriors. 

No, she chastised herself, not soft. Goten and Trunks were far from inferior fighters. It was only by luck and surprise that she'd kept up with them so far. They could kill her without even trying--yet somehow she didn't think they would. 

In a way, she resented them for that. Between that and their repeated kindness, she had begun to feel indebted to them, and there was no way for her to pay off such a debt. She sighed again. If she possessed enough power, she'd just blow the whole damned planet to kingdom come and put them all out of their misery. 

She was distracted from her inner ranting by the presence of an enormous ki nearby. She stood warily, looking around until her eyes fell on what she'd first thought to be an oddly shaped boulder. Realizing it had been spotted, it rose and approached her, standing a cautious distance away. Takira could only stare in horror. 

"Before you kill me, Takira," Koretz rumbled, "hear me out. I need your help." 

***** 

Gohan awoke with a start. He was amazed that he'd fallen asleep at all, after what had just transpired. Beside him, Videl stirred sleepily. The knock at the door came again, sharp, insistent. Careful not to wake his wife, Gohan slipped out of bed and strode to the door, silently cursing his brother. Didn't Goten know enough to keep quiet? 

He saw Chichi at the door, about to open it. Gohan braced himself for the tirade that was sure to come, but as she swung the door open, she didn't utter a sound. Just then Gohan noticed that the shadowy spike-haired figure in the doorway was not Goten. Chichi looked almost like she would faint. She stammered: 

"V--Vegeta!" 

"Close," he replied, turning slightly so that the starlight glowed on his scarred face. He smiled. "I'm his son." 

"Vegira?!" Gohan gasped. "That's impossible, you were killed!" 

"What's going on?" Chichi demanded. "Gohan, do you know this person? Since when did Vegeta have a son other than Trunks?" 

"Trunks?" Vegira was intrigued. "So, I have a brother. Not from the same mother, I suppose. I'll have to be sure to meet him. First things first, though: where is Vegeta?" 

"He's not here," Gohan said stonily. "Before we go any further, answer me this: how did you survive the battle with Koretz?" 

"When I saw him slaughter my mother, I flew into a rage and killed him." Vegira shrugged, then suddenly looked suspicious. "How did you come to know about that battle?" 

'Don't trust him!' Gohan thought. "The other Roc told me; the one with half a tail," he lied, praying Vegira hadn't killed that one, too. 

"He did? He told you I died, too? That bastard." 

Gohan was only half-listening. If Vegira lived, then either Takira had lied or had incorrectly remembered the battle. It was possible that Koretz had injured Vegira, and Takira, panicking, had assumed the worst. But Kaio-sama had said something about-- 

"Wait a minute," Gohan said, "You killed Koretz? Are you sure?" 

"Of course I'm sure, idiot!" Vegira snapped, "I should know who I have and haven't killed, shouldn't I? Oh, you're thinking of the other Roc, the one you talked to. He took Koretz's name to honor his fallen brother." 

Koretz had a brother? A brother who'd been fighting with him? It seemed to make sense, but something felt wrong about the story. Gohan was going to ask more questions when Vegira turned away. 

"Well, if my father's not here, I'd better go look for him and my brother. Do either of you know where they might be?" 

"Trunks would be at Capsule Corp.," Chichi muttered, before she realized she'd spoken aloud. Abruptly she went silent, unsure of how much she should tell this stranger. He seemed satisfied, however. 

"Capsule Corp., huh? I think I saw that on the way over. I think I'll pay a visit." With that, he shot into the night sky and was gone. 

Chichi turned on Gohan. "All right, mister, you have some serious explaining to do! Just who the heck **was** that?" Gohan gave her a quick peck on the cheek and ran out the door. 

"No time to talk now, mom. I've got to find Goten!" He took off in the same direction Vegira had taken. 

"Gohan? Gohan! You mean Goten's out there, too? Why am I always the last to know what's going on?!" 

***** 

"I can't feel her ki signal anywhere here," Trunks said, shaking his head. 

"Does she know how to hide her signal?" 

"Shit, I hadn't thought of that. Of course, that's how she hid from us last night." 

"Except she can't be that good at it, or you wouldn't have sensed her. Remember? You knew she was there before either of us saw her." 

"So do we just hang around here and wait for her to slip up? We don't have all night," Trunks ranted, becoming steadily more frustrated. 

"Trunks, you'll never be able to sense her in that state of mind," Goten reminded him gently. "Relax. Try again." Trunks closed his eyes, concentrating. Suddenly he opened them, and looked off into the distance. 

"What the hell?" Now Goten could feel it, too; an immense power, moving fast, heading in the direction of Capsule Corp. 

"That's not Takira, but I think we'd better check it out," said Goten. 

"Right. Let's move." They took off in the direction of the signal. It was nearing Capsule Corp. when Trunks noticed another--no, two--somewhere nearby. 

"Goten, what are those other signals?" 

"One of them could be Takira. I'll check; you go ahead, but be careful. I'll join you at Capsule Corp. as soon as I figure out these others." Trunks nodded, and Goten sheared away, suddenly sensing a third signal, much closer. 

"Something's definitely up," he muttered, "and I don't like it one bit. First Takira gone, then Kaio-sama's warning--" He frowned. It seemed a strange coincidence that Takira should disappear just before all these other powers showed up. Was this her doing? He couldn't bring himself to believe it. 

The third power was almost upon him now, and with a start, he recognized it as Gohan. What was he doing out here? He was supposed to be waiting at home! He rushed up to Goten, not bothering to greet him, and said: 

"It's Vegira. He's here. He's alive." 

"What?!" Goten fell back, stunned. "How--he was--she said he--" 

"I know, I know; I don't understand it either. He just showed up at our door, and then left for Capsule Corp. to look for Trunks." 

"Well, he won't find him there, yet. Soon, though; he was moving pretty fast when we parted ways." 

"What the heck are you two doing out here?" 

"Looking for Takira. We can't find her anywhere. Trunks thinks it's his fault." 

"What on earth are you talking about?" 

"Come with me and I'll explain on the way. I've been sent to investigate the two power signals over that way," he said, pointing. 

"Okay, but after we investigate, we go to Capsule Corp. and figure out what Vegira's up to." 

"Agreed." The sped away in a flash of light. 

***** 

Takira stared at the Roc, and noticed his tail--or lack thereof. Suddenly she made the connection. 

"You were the other Roc, the one that was after Vegira! You were the one fighting alongside Koretz!" 

"Almost correct," he said. "I **am** Koretz. The being you fought was named Mordrig, and he is the reason I was trying to save your son." 

"Save him?! Why would you save him?" 

"Because I wanted to prevent Mordrig from getting a hold of a Saiyan; I knew what power they possessed." His armored mouth widened in a sardonic smile. "The fact that you nearly killed me just confirmed what I already knew." 

"Well, that was my Oozaru form, I can't do that again--wait! How did you recognize me? You saw me die! How did you track me here?" 

"I didn't track you; I followed Mordrig. The fact that you're here is a result of my actions, which is how I knew you'd be here. I recognized your power even in this strange body." He paused a moment. "Every race has its special powers. The Saiyans could transform into beings of immense power. The Roc can cast souls from their bodies to other places." 

"Just what are you saying? That **you** sent me to this body?" 

"I sent you to Earth. Your soul found the body itself." 

"Why Earth?" 

"Because Mordrig had spoken of your brother, Kakarot, as having come from Earth. It was the only place I could think of at the moment." 

"Why did you send me?" 

"So that Mordrig would have one less soul on which to feast." 

"What are you talking about? Are you saying he controls my son's soul?" 

"For twenty hours, he did, and wrote down everything he could conjure up from your son's mind that could be of use to him. It's how he operates. All he has to do is swallow part of you, and you're his." He spoke bitterly, and Takira understood. 

"Your tail--" 

"--is the reason two-thirds of my people are dead. From me he learned our weakness, and exploited it to its fullest measure before we were able to drive him away. Now I've been assigned to track him down and destroy him. How the hell am I supposed to do that?" 

"Why did he come here?" 

"I assume he's looking for Kakarot; he seemed so impressed with him, and no doubt your son was packed with tales of his abilities." 

"No, I never told Vegira about Kakarot, only--only his father." 

"Who was his father?" 

"Vegeta, another Saiyan of immense power, who also resided on Earth until recently." 

"What happened recently?" 

"He died. Mordrig can't gain much from him now." 

"What about Kakarot?" 

"Dead as well." She breathed a sigh of relief that neither would have their souls harvested by this madman. 

"Did either of them have any children?" Koretz persisted. 

"Yes, and here are Kakarot's two, now," she said, surprised. 

Gohan and Goten landed on either side of her, facing Koretz. 

"Guys, what are you doing here?" Takira asked. 

"Why'd you leave, Takira?" Goten blurted out. "Was it because of Trunks?" 

"What? No, I just needed some time to myself; I was going to be back by morning. How did you know I'd left?" 

"Trunks and I came to get you, to tell you--" He trailed off, eyeing Koretz suspiciously. 

"Don't worry about him; what were you going to tell me?" 

"We've seen Vegira," Gohan said. 

"What? Impossible!" she moaned, clutching her hands to her head. "It can't be--" 

"It isn't," said Koretz. All three turned to face him. His expression was grave. "It's Mordrig." 

***** 

'This is almost too easy,' Vegira thought to himself as he circled the huge domed building. Now, how to get in--there was always the direct method, but since he still didn't know where Vegeta was, he decided to take the more genteel approach; it had worked at that other house. The man who'd come to the door there had been the power signal Vegira had felt, and it was strong, but if what he'd written was to be believed, this Vegeta was even stronger. What he could do with that power--he smiled as he rang the doorbell. After a few moments and some muttered cursing on the other side of the door, it was opened by a man, bleary-eyed, hair tousled and wearing a pair of rumpled pajama bottoms. His sleepy demeanor lasted only a second before being replaced by shock. 

"Who are you?" 

"I'm looking for Trunks." 

"First things first, pal. Who are you?" 

"His half-brother, you dolt! Now where is he?" 

"What are you talking about? He doesn't have a half-brother!" 

"What's this? Vegeta never told Trunks that he wasn't his only son?" 

Yamcha was astonished. It didn't seem possible, and yet, this stranger did bear an incredible resemblance to Vegeta, despite his deeply scarred face. Yamcha was about to reply when he heard Bulma behind him. 

"Yamcha, what's--Vegeta!" she cried as she spied the visitor. 

"Stop calling me that," Vegira snapped irritably. "I'm **looking** for Vegeta: my father; also my half-brother Trunks. Now where are they?" 

"Vegeta's dead," said Yamcha. Immediately Vegira had him by the throat, lifting him off his feet. 

"You'd better hope Trunks is here. I don't like to be disappointed." 

"I'm right here," came a soft voice from behind him. Vegira whirled, dropping Yamcha. He nearly laughed out loud at the sight of Trunks. 

"This is a Saiyan? What happened to your hair, boy?" 

"Nothing," he replied calmly. "Who are you?" 

"Your half-brother, a full-blooded son of your father, Vegeta." He heard exclamations of surprise from the other two, but Trunks remained still, staring Vegira in the eyes. At last he spoke. 

"No." 

"What?" 

"You are not Takira's son." 

Yamcha tried to calm Bulma as he began to put the pieces together. Takira--and Vegeta? Now this? It didn't fit, yet Trunks seemed to know exactly what was going on. This must have been the secret Gohan and Goten couldn't tell him. Standing there, with this strange Saiyan at his door, Yamcha wished they had told him. 

Vegira was confused as well. "Takira? What are you talking about? I decapitated the bitch. How could you possibly know about her?" He began to feel like he'd gotten into more than he'd bargained for. He thought for sure he'd seen the last of Takira on that wretched little planet. The only thing he'd left standing was Koretz, because he'd already learned all he could from him. Takira's body hadn't provided any information at all, strangely enough. It had been unnerving, then; to hear her mentioned now, as though she were still alive, was beginning to border on disturbing. 

"Are you saying she's alive? Here?" he blustered. Trunks nodded. 

"Well?" Vegira grumbled. 

"Well, what?" 

"Well, where the hell is she and how did she get here? There was no way unless--" Suddenly he remembered. "Koretz," he growled. Trunks was suddenly on full guard. 

"What do you know of Koretz?" 

"Other than the fact that he killed my mother?" Trunks shook his head, smiling. 

"Oh, I don't know if he did anymore. By your own account, you're the one who, as you so beautifully put it, 'decapitated the bitch.'" 

"Will you stand against me? I'm your half-brother, flesh and blood!" 

"I don't know what you are, but even if you are related to me, I can't trust you if you bear Takira such ill will." 

"Did it never occur to you that she could deceive you, boy? Right at this moment, a ship full of the Roc is hovering over this planet, waiting for a signal from Koretz to begin their conquest; and your precious Takira called them here!" 

Trunks didn't believe it. "Why would she call them here?" 

"Because Koretz saved her wretched little soul and sent it here. Now she has to pay him back," Vegira hissed, with an evil grin. "I'm here to stop her. Now where is she?" 

Trunks said nothing for a while, turning over the details in his head. It was quite possible that all had happened as Vegira said, and that Takira had only come near Goten and him so she could gain access to the training equipment, the better to assist the Roc in taking over--but then why call Koretz now, before she had a chance to make use of it? So many inconsistencies existed, no matter which story he chose. He sighed. He would have to decide. At last he looked up at Vegira and smiled: his father's smile. 

"Go to hell, whatever you are. Go to hell and don't come back."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

Vegira couldn't believe his ears. He'd expected a tearful welcome from his long-lost "family", and now this purple-haired little punk was telling him off? Surely the kid could sense Vegira's power and knew he was outclassed. He seemed too confident--a fighter who acted like that couldn't be trusted. He was hiding something, but what? 

Another ki was closing in. 'Now what?' Vegira thought. This whole situation was getting out of hand. A human female with long braided hair and flashing eyes flew in to land beside Trunks. She stared at Vegira in wonder. 

"Vegira? My son, is that really you?" She drew closer to him. Ah, yes, this would do nicely, he thought to himself. He could use her to get at Trunks. He did his best to look stunned and surprised; given recent events, it wasn't much of a stretch. 

"Mother," he whispered, reaching out to her. She stood back from him suddenly. 

"Oh, Vegira, it's so good to see you. Let me look at you." Gently, she laid her hands on either side of his face, smiling up at him. Abruptly her hands tightened on him and her smile turned to an evil grin as she shut her eyes. Energy exploded from him, flowing over her hands, into her body. 

Vegira was in hell. The pain was like nothing he'd felt before, white-hot, and he couldn't move his burning limbs. He was powerless to do anything but scream. 

Yamcha shoved Bulma behind him, shouting at Bra to go back to her room. He backed away from the shrieking Saiyan, shielding his eyes. Whatever power Takira was using on that guy, Yamcha didn't want to get anywhere near it. Only Trunks looked unconcerned, though his body was tense, power level elevated, and Yamcha could tell he was ready for a fight. Yamcha struggled to concentrate, powering up. Whatever happened next, he had to be ready. 

Takira released the now-unconscious Vegira, and his body fell limply to the ground. Slowly, his appearance began to change, bodysuit and armor melting into blue-grey skin, spiky hair shrinking into his head, furred tail growing and turning the same blue-grey color. At last Mordrig's body ceased its transformation, and for a moment there was dead silence but for his rasping breath. Takira nudged him with her foot. 

"A shape-shifter," she spat. "The one who killed my son. He took Koretz's form when he fought with me. It turns out the real Koretz is the one who sent me here. He wasn't after me when he came here. This is the one he's sworn to kill." 

"How do you know all this?" Trunks asked. Takira raised an eyebrow at him. 

"I heard it from Koretz, of course. It corroborated with what Kaio-sama had told Gohan." 

"So Goten caught up with you." 

"So did Gohan, actually. It seems Mordrig here paid him a visit before coming here." 

"He was looking for Vegeta?" 

"He said he was looking for you, Trunks," Yamcha said, stepping forward. 

"With Vegeta dead, you'd be the next logical source of power," Takira explained. 

"What does he want with me?" Takira's eyes narrowed. 

"He wants to do to you what he did to Vegira. He wants your power and your soul." Despite his calm appearance, Trunks shivered slightly. 

"So what do we do with him now?" asked Yamcha Takira slung the body over her shoulder. 

"We take him some place that won't mind the mess and kill him." Her manner was practical. "There's a time and place for mercy, but in this case I think even death's too kind a fate for him." 

"Where are we taking him?" Trunks inquired. 

"A hilltop over that way," she gestured with her free hand, "Gohan and Goten are waiting for me there." 

"Why?" 

"I left them behind to keep an eye on Koretz. He's trying to establish contact with his ship. Apparently Mordrig here blew up a planet near the ship, and its communications system has been messed up since. He'd been trying to throw them off his tail. I can tell you more, later, but for now I really think we ought to get going." It was then that Trunks remembered the last time she'd used that technique--and how quickly Goten had recovered. 

"Let's go. We'd better make this quick," he muttered, and turned to leave when he heard Yamcha shout. Takira struck the wall with a resounding crash, and Mordrig took to the sky, rocketing towards the hilltop. 'First I'll kill that damned Roc,' he thought, 'then the other two, and when I'm done with them and have all my power back, I'll tackle Vegeta's son. I'll save Takira for last.' He grimaced, his body still wracked with pain. He hoped he hadn't killed Takira when he'd thrown her aside; he wanted her alive. He'd kill her slowly, and this time--there would be no one to interfere. 

That Trunks kid was following him; he could sense the growing ki behind him. The half-Saiyan's power level had been rising since Mordrig first laid eyes on him It was not a promising sign. Still, it might be fun facing a real challenge for a change. Mordrig looked at the moon he'd cast for the first time that night, and smiled to himself. Dawn was coming, but not fast enough for his newfound enemies. 

He could see the three figures on the hilltop ahead. They'd spotted him already; he hadn't yet mastered the art of hiding his ki. Mordrig didn't mind. By now they all knew who he was, so the element of surprise had already been lost. He could win without it. He landed in the middle of the group and they backed away to form a loose circle around him. Koretz looked at Mordrig with pure hatred; the other two were simply cautious. Moments later, Trunks arrived. 

"What happened?" asked Goten. "Who's this?" 

"Vegira, at least he used to be. Takira drained his power and he transformed to this. Before we got a chance to kill him, he smashed Takira into a wall and fled, coward that he is." 

"Coward?! You dare call me a coward?" Mordrig bellowed. Trunks ignored him. 

"Trunks, was Takira--okay?" Goten asked quietly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. Trunks' expression was pained. 

"I don't know. I took off after this monster too soon to be sure." Mordrig guffawed loudly. 

"Don't tell me she was a friend of yours! Did she pull you in with her sob story about Vegira? I'll tell you what, if she was any kind of Saiyan, that wouldn't have fazed her one bit, and she was a true Saiyan. She's the most wicked thing I've ever come across, and I've seen more than a few. She's played you all for fools, and perfectly, too. I hope for your sake she's dead." 

A golden aura burst up around Trunks, blending his hair to gold and tinting his blue eyes green. He glowered at Mordrig. 

"For your own sake," he said in a low voice, "You'd better hope she's alive." 

Mordrig was startled. The youth's energy had suddenly shot sky-high. Where did he get the power? Mordrig wracked his brain; there hadn't been anything like this in Vegira's memories. All he could think of was--Kakarot. Yet this wasn't Kakarot, not even of his blood. What was going on? 

Two more bursts of energy erupted, and Mordrig found himself nearly surrounded by super Saiyans. Only Koretz remained unchanged, catching glances at each of the other warriors while still keeping a wary eye on Mordrig. Mordrig was secretly delighted. Koretz would provide nothing of use, but the power in these three was incredible! The knowledge they must possess; it was a dream come true! 

"My, my," he murmured, "All the little demi-Saiyans are transformed. This must be a special occasion. I'm sure you don't all bleach your hair for just anyone. Well, I'm quite honored; I should make sure to choose my own outfit to complement yours, yes?" The hideous change began as his flesh seemed to turn to putty then resolidify, forming the now-familiar Vegira. Unwrapping his tail from his waist, he swished it a little, just enough to get their attention, then looked up at the moon: the full moon. 

The three Saiyans backed up slightly as Mordrig's body swelled and grew, changing again. Only Koretz held his ground, refusing to give an inch. At last the Oozaru stood before them, eyes glowing. He chuckled. 

"What's this? Not impressed? How about you Koretz? Where are you? Oh, there. You know, you really should learn to give me my space, or else you might get hurt!" He punctuated the last word with a kick. It was not so fast that Koretz couldn't have dodged it, yet he made no effort to do so, flying backwards and plowing a furrow with his body in the damp earth. Meanwhile, Goten, Gohan and Trunks had risen into the air. 

"I'd like to handle this one, guys," Trunks said. "Gohan, see if you can't figure out what's wrong with Koretz. Goten, go check on Takira." Goten flew off immediately, but Gohan paused first, watching Trunks curiously. It wasn't like him to be this authoritative--Gohan sighed; he must be beginning to take after his dad. Trunks hovered before Mordrig, stern-faced and unmoving. 

"How would you care to die?" he uttered softly. Mordrig snorted. 

"Better make it quick, kid, while we're both still young. After you've finished your attempt, let me know, and I'll finish you and your comrades." Trunks only nodded, drawing his sword. He vanished, appearing suddenly behind Mordrig, only to be backhanded by the Oozaru. He caught himself quickly, wincing inwardly. Apparently Mordrig was faster than he looked. 

Mordrig leveled a kick at Trunks, and caught the Saiyan in his hand as he dodged the blow. The next moment, however, Mordrig screamed and released him, clutching his own wounded hand. Trunks' sword was bloody to the hilt. He shot forward and landed a kick in Mordrig's jaw, using the sword to slash across his eye. Mordrig roared and released a ki blast from his mouth that knocked Trunks out of the sky. Readying himself again, Trunks tightened his grip on his sword. If Mordrig wanted his death quickly, he was going about it the wrong way.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen 

Not far from the action, Gohan helped Koretz to his feet. 

"I don't understand; why did you just take that attack?" 

"I wanted to see if the stupid bastard had sense enough to kill me; he doesn't. He's not really interested in me, which gives me something of an advantage. While he's pounding the living hell out of you three, maybe I can slip in an attack or two, catch him by surprise." 

"You don't think Trunks can handle him?" 

"No. I've yet to meet a Saiyan that wasn't overconfident, and you three are no exceptions. You don't know what you're up against. He only took that monkey form to taunt you. He can get much, much stronger than that." He shook his head. 

"He gets stronger by changing?" 

"He can be just about any race you could think of; any that he's 'sampled', and from what I've heard, he's gathered quite a collection. I know you don't like to hear it, but the Saiyans are not the strongest of those. Right now he's just playing with you." 

"Well," said Gohan darkly, "Playtime's over." 

***** 

Goten arrived as Yamcha pulled the last of the rubble off of Takira. She stood up in one fluid motion, then fell over with similar grace. She lurched back to her feet and staggered, legs braced, wobbling. Blood dripped into her eye from a cut on her forehead. She wiped it away irritably, wincing at the pain. Goten rushed over to her, lending a steadying hand. 

"Takira, you're alive!" She grunted. 

"Guess I'll take your word for it," she groaned, looking around, trying to force her blurred vision to focus. "Where's Mordrig? Where's Trunks?" 

"They're on the hill with the others. Trunks is fighting with Mordrig. He sent me to see if you were okay." 

"Yeah. Sure. Never felt better," she muttered, swaying slightly, still dripping blood. 

"Sit down," Yamcha ordered. "Bulma will be back in a second." 

"Bulma? What's she going to do, cover me with band-aids?" Bulma appeared, bearing a small drawstring bag, from which she drew a single, nondescript bean. Takira howled with laughter. 

"What the hell is that?" 

"A Senzu seed," Bulma replied tersely. "Before you laugh too hard, eat it." Still snickering, Takira did as she was told, her sarcasm dissolving into surprise. She stood and stretched. 

"Amazing!" she exclaimed. "Man, I wish I'd known about those things back on planet Vegeta!" She clapped a hand to her mouth as she realized what she'd just admitted. 

"We're going to hear your story, Takira," Yamcha said, "Later. For now, let's see if Trunks and Gohan need a hand." He took the bag from Bulma. "We may end up needing these, though I hope we won't." 

"There's only one left," Bulma warned. Yamcha tucked the bag in his pocket. 

"Well, I'll be careful with it, then. Let's go." 

"Wait," said Takira, approaching Bulma. "I thank you for healing me, but I have one further favor to ask of you." 

"What's that?" Bulma asked guardedly. 

"The dragontear--your necklace. May I wear it? I promise you'll get it back when all this is over." Bulma looked uncertain, but nonetheless pulled the necklace over her head and handed it to Takira. She put it on and turned to face Yamcha and Goten. 

"Okay, guys, let's roll." The location was not difficult to see; a curious glow, punctuated by bursts of light, marked the hill they sought. As they drew nearer, they saw the Oozaru and Trunks exchanging blows. Neither noticed the three as they approached. 

"So that's what a super Saiyan looks like," Takira murmured. 

"That's it," Goten confirmed, "but he seems to be taking a bit of a beating. Takira, can you pull that trick of yours again?" 

"If I can get close enough. He's so big, though; I don't know effective I'll be, clinging to his fur." She drew her katana. "Distract him, guys. It's about time I repaid him for ripping off my tail." She flew in a wide circle around the hilltop to orient herself behind the Oozaru, concentrating on cloaking her ki. Goten and Yamcha flew around and were immediately intercepted by Gohan, holding up a hand to stop them. 

"Trunks wanted to handle this alone, guys," he said, but his tone conveyed no great confidence. 

"Gohan, we need to get in there!" Goten protested. "We need to be sure Mordrig's distracted so Takira can make her attack!" 

"Takira? So she's alive." 

"Alive and well," said Yamcha. "Bulma gave her a Senzu seed. We have one more, in case we end up needing it." He patted his pocket. 

"If what Koretz said is true, I fear we may need it." 

"What? It's just an Oozaru, he's not even super Saiyan!" exclaimed Goten. 

"This isn't even close to his strongest form, apparently. He can change forms at will, and to hear Koretz tell it, he's got quite a repertoire." 

"Where is Koretz?" Goten asked. 

"* Who * is Koretz, is my question," muttered Yamcha. Gohan ignored him. 

"At his request, I left him. He's prowling around here somewhere, though I can't imagine what he hopes to do." 

With a resounding thud, Trunks' body smashed into the ground nearby. He growled in anger and struggled to his feet. The fight was not going well. Mordrig laughed and approached the group. 

"You pathetic fools! Can't you even defeat one of your own kind?" He raised a gloved hand, preparing a ki blast, when he caught sight of movement behind him. Takira streaked forward, katana raised, making to move to dodge even as Mordrig turned slightly and launched his ki attack at her. Desperation propelled her forward. 

'If I can just outrun this attack--don't think I'm going to make it. Shit! Well, I said I'd die trying--' She braced for her own destruction. 

Suddenly a broad beam of energy shot up from the ground, striking Mordrig's attack and deflecting it. The two bolts of energy screamed past Takira, burning her arm. With a shriek of pain and fury, she brought down the katana with all her strength, severing Mordrig's monstrous tail. 

Shooting away before Mordrig could retaliate, Takira looked down and saw Koretz, still braced from the attack he'd launched. An instant later Mordrig's mouth-blast hit him, his shattered body slumping to the ground before he'd even had time to scream. The Oozaru roared but did not seem to be shrinking. He roared again, and from the bloody stump of his tail, a new one appeared. Mordrig swished it lazily as he looked at Takira. 

"Thought you had me, didn't you, girl? Well, that's very clever, but if my body changes so easily, wouldn't it makes sense that I could regenerate? Really, I expected you to be more sensible than that. All you've managed to do is kill Koretz, burn yourself, and piss me off. That last one," he growled, "was not such a good idea." 

Takira leaped aside as Mordrig's fist slammed into the ground where she'd been. She took to the air, sword still drawn, and rushed in, aiming for the throat. He swatted her aside, then followed with a ki blast that she barely managed to dodge. 'Too fast,' she thought with alarm. 'He may look like an Oozaru but he's drawing on more power than any Oozaru ever had!" Quickly she sheathed her sword to free her hands. 

'Little pest,' Mordrig thought to himself. 'She's no threat but she's going to be a nuisance. To hell with saving her for last.' He prepared another energy ball in each hand. This little game was going to end now. 

He threw the first with dazzling speed, but Takira was ready with an attack of her own. The two energies met in a clash of light, and then Takira's began to press further, slowly forcing its way toward Mordrig. He grunted, unimpressed. 'She's using all her power in that. She doesn't realize I've still got one more!' He grinned and prepared to obliterate Takira with his second attack, sensing too late the glow behind him. 

The hilltop shuddered and then exploded, rocks and trees spraying out to cover a quarter-mile radius from the site. As the dust cleared, Mordrig found himself lying in a smoking crater, his head spinning. Trunks and Yamcha stood at the edge of the crater. Above Mordrig hovered Gohan, aura blazing, a perfect picture of fury. It was he who had fired that attack. 

"Enough of this," he hissed through clenched teeth. Mordrig slowly rose to his feet, reverting to his original form. 

"Indeed, enough," he said. "It's about time someone took real action around here. You were even good enough to destroy that meddlesome girl, and for that I thank you." Gohan smiled grimly. 

"Take a good look behind you before you thank me." Mordrig turned to see Goten hovering a short distance away, a surprised-looking Takira in his arms. Releasing her to float beside him, he grinned. 

"Too fast for ya, hmm? Sorry to disappoint." He gave Mordrig a cocky smile. Mordrig bristled and turned back to Gohan. 

"Well, that was very nicely orchestrated; my compliments. Now, what say we raise the stakes a little?" He powered up, changing again, dust and rocks swirling around his twisting body. When all was calm again, a lizard-like Rykal stood before them, golden eyes glowing beneath scaled hoods. A forked tongue flicked from his mouth as he laughed softly. 

"I don't think you've seen one of these before. They don't travel much to this end of the galaxy; I had to travel long and hard to find one, myself." He rose into the air. "Let's see if it was worth it." 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen 

Gohan prepared to attack. The sunrise had begun, and in its orange glow, Gohan's aura shone like living fire. Mordrig's scales gleamed. 

"I actually had to lower my power level to become a Saiyan," he hissed. "This form may give you a better hint of my true power." He lunged at Gohan, swinging with his tail. Gohan ducked and kicked him hard in the back. As his body flew upward from the blow, Gohan suddenly appeared above him, doubled-up fists above his head, and swung down, slicing through air as Mordrig disappeared. 

Without warning, Gohan was knocked aside by a ki blast, and launched one of his own in its direction, but Mordrig was no longer there. He appeared behind Gohan with a flying kick. Gohan twisted out of the way and rammed his elbow into Mordrig's face, then punching him in the stomach, sending him crashing to the ground. The next instant Mordrig was up again, clashing with Gohan in a flurry of punches, kicks, and blocks that Takira could barely follow. 

"So this is your brother, the pacifist?" she asked Goten wryly. "Not bad." 

"Don't let his attitude fool you. He's probably the strongest being here." 

"I hope so, Goten. I really do." She sighed. "Isn't there anything we can do to help?" 

"It'll be better if we stay out of the way and don't distract him. Fights like this are really meant to be one-on-one." 

"So we stand here and do nothing?" 

"We stand here and make sure we're ready to jump in if he needs us. Trust me, you'll know it if he does." Takira said nothing, tensely watching the fight. Twice Mordrig had almost sunk his teeth into Gohan. If he managed to gain Gohan's power, the odds would tip heavily in his favor. Takira shuddered at the thought. 

On the other side of the crater, Trunks and Yamcha, too, were waiting. 

"I don't like the looks of this, Trunks. Gohan should have finished him off by now." 

"He's stronger than he looks," muttered Trunks. He felt humiliated that Gohan had felt the need to step in. Trunks sighed and looked across at Goten and Takira, who were both standing in readiness. The skin on Takira's left arm was an angry red, nearly charred in places. Trunks winced in spite of himself; the pain must be excruciating, yet Takira showed little sign of it. His train of thought was interrupted by Yamcha. 

"Trunks, this may not be the time or place, but I have to ask: what were you and Vegira--I mean Mordrig--talking about back at Capsule Corp.? Something about Takira, Vegeta--and a child?" Try as he might, Yamcha couldn't fit the pieces of the story together. 

"It's a long story," Trunks said, "but to give you the bare facts: Takira used to be a Saiyan. She lived with Vegeta on Freiza's ship, and left when she learned she was to bear his child. She and the child--Vegira--later set out to find Vegeta, but instead were killed by Mordrig. Takira's soul traveled here to the body she has now, and from Vegira, Mordrig got the abilities of a Saiyan and all of Vegira's knowledge, mostly of his father." 

"So he came to get Vegeta's power." 

"Yes." 

"Only to find Takira, a stump-tailed boulder and a slew of half-Saiyans instead, but he's going to try anyway?" 

"Yes." 

"Man," said Yamcha, "How did Earth end up the ultimate target for deranged psychopaths?" Trunk smiled faintly. 

"Considering one of the first was my father and Bulma's husband, you may want to watch how you phrase that question." 

"Oh. Right. Sorry." 

A bone-chilling scream brought their attention back to the fight. Gohan had Mordrig by the wrists and was trying to push him away. The Rykal's teeth were buried in Gohan's shoulder. Mordrig bit down, attempting to tear off the arm. Immediately Trunks and Goten were on the pair, trying to separate them while avoiding Mordrig's furious attempts to knock them away. Takira and Yamcha hung back, looking for an opening. 

Mordrig's tail snaked around Goten's neck, and Trunks drew his sword to sever the tail. Reading his intent, Mordrig flung Goten into him, sending both flying. Suddenly Mordrig felt cold steel against his throat and froze. Takira clung to his back, her wakazishi held tightly against the scaly neck. 

"Let him go," she rasped. Mordrig let out a breath and relaxed as though releasing Gohan. The pressure on his throat let up the slightest bit, and he used the opportunity. In an explosion of ki, Takira was thrown from his back, but not before her sword cut a deep gash in his shoulder. Involuntarily he opened his mouth in a scream and Gohan shot away, landing at the edge of the crater. 

Takira slammed into the ground with stunning force, tearing up the earth as her wakazishi went flying. For a moment all was still, and Mordrig began to think he'd truly killed her once and for all. Then came a groan from the sodden heap on the ground and Mordrig snarled. This had gone far enough. He lifted a hand to blast her apart, then at the last moment whirled and aimed it at the warrior who flew at him, sword lifted. The blast caught Trunks full in the chest and he was forced back nearly to the ground before he deflected it. Undaunted, he launched himself at Mordrig again. He'd finish this monster if he could, but even if he failed, he'd have bought his friends some time. 

Goten flew over to Takira, who had managed to pull herself into a sitting position. The damaged skin of her arm had ripped open when she'd hit the ground, and was now bleeding heavily. Takira untied the sweatshirt from her waist and tore a strip from the bottom, winding it around her arm. 

"I wondered why you wore that," Goten commented. 

"Well, it--ow!--sure as hell isn't for 'style'," Takira grunted, tugging at the makeshift bandage. "Goten, you're going to have to tie this for me. Make it tight." Goten pulled it into a tentative knot, stopping when he saw Takira flinch. She looked at him angrily. 

"I said tight, damn it!" she shouted. 

"I didn't want to hurt you--" 

"Goten!" She grabbed him by the chin and forced him to look her in the eye. "It's more or less a given that whatever you do is going to hurt. At least have the decency to do it right!" Goten, clenching his teeth, did as she asked, jerking the bandage tight. Takira bit back her scream as he hurriedly tied it off. 

"How's that?" he asked. With agony etched on her face, Takira flexed her arm experimentally. The bandage held in place though a red stain had begun to spread across the fabric. 

"Well done," she said, "Now let's get back there before Trunks gets--what the hell?" Goten looked up to see what confused her. Gohan was back in the fight, good as new, using both arms as though he'd never been injured. On the sidelines, Yamcha dropped a small drawstring bag, his expression grim. 

"The last Senzu seed," Takira murmured. "Gohan had better be careful; next time he gets hurt he won't heal so fast." 

***** 

Gohan was frustrated. This being was not so powerful as others he'd fought, yet defeating him seemed a near-impossibility. He was always just a little too fast, just a little too crafty--Gohan had strength, but Mordrig held the fighting knowledge of many a warrior race. He was never without a move, never had to repeat a particular attack--he was impossible to anticipate. Also a problem was the fact that Gohan couldn't get in too close to him. If Gohan could only get his hands around the Rykal's neck, he was sure the battle would end then and there. The trouble was getting in close enough without Mordrig taking a chunk out of him and gaining his power. He had come far too close to losing both his arm and the battle when Mordrig bit him. He couldn't risk it happening again. There were no more Senzu seeds to revitalize him. 

Another standoff. Trunks and Gohan hovered in front of Mordrig. Blood still dripped down Mordrig's chest from the slash Takira had dealt him, but he didn't seem to notice. He eyed the two warriors before him; neither seemed like they would attack until he did, and he was not so eager to jump back into the action. There were still those other two plus Takira to deal with. He grinned. Well, why not deal with them now? 

Before any of them could react, he sent a focused blast to Yamcha, who was simply not fast enough to dodge. It pierced his chest, flinging him backward. A strange young woman had appeared and now knelt at his side examining the wound carefully. A small hole had been drilled cleanly through Yamcha's chest, up near his shoulder. Pan's face tightened. If it had cut through a lung--at Goten's shout her head snapped up and she saw the ugly lizard aiming at her. Gohan knocked him aside and the three in the sky began to fight again. Pan saw Goten across the enormous crater, waving frantically. 

"Pan! Get Yamcha out of here now! Go!" The panic in his voice spurred her on as she managed, with difficulty, to lift the groaning Yamcha. She took off, praying that her departure would go unnoticed. 

Mordrig spun, tail out, and Gohan and Trunks were momentarily knocked away. Mordrig caught sight of that new girl, leaving with the human. The man was of no consequence and probably dying anyway, but the girl was one too many for him to deal with. He fired a ki blast, and whirled back to face Trunks and Gohan. 

Pan looked over her shoulder and saw it heading for her. She couldn't block it if she wanted to, it was too large, and Yamcha weighed her down too much to move far enough out of its path. It was almost upon her when Goten appeared in front of it, arms extended before him. 

"Kamehameha!" he roared, and energy exploded all around him as Mordrig's blast struck. Pan was thrown forward, barely managing to keep her grip on Yamcha. She flew as fast as she could. With her burden she couldn't fight. She had to get out of there quickly. She dared not pause to look back. 

Goten lay on his back in the dirt, wheezing. It felt like every bone in his body had broken. At least Pan had gotten away. He smiled in spite of the pain; Pan must have managed to sneak out of the house when Chichi and Videl weren't watching. They would be furious. Another wave of pain washed over him, and Goten choked back a groan. No doubt about it, he was through fighting for this one. All he could do now was have faith in Gohan and Trunks, and hope that Mordrig didn't notice that he was still alive. He shut his eyes wearily. 

Gohan hadn't seen; he'd attacked the moment Mordrig had aimed for Pan, and now needed all his concentration focused on the fight. He caught Mordrig's tail and tried to swing him by it, but Mordrig shot out a clawed foot and raked across Gohan's face. Gohan fell back, releasing the tail, and summoning all his strength, Mordrig blasted Gohan out of the sky. He plummeted earthward, smacking forcefully into a boulder. He didn't seem to be moving, either unconscious or dead. Blood spread across the rock. 

"No!" Trunks screamed, lunging forward. In an instant Mordrig's tail was cut off. Trunks raised his sword again, aiming for the throat. Mordrig blocked instinctively, saving his neck at the expense of his arm. With a hoarse cry, he regenerated both, swerving out of the path of Trunks' blade and catching Trunks in the back, knocking him down. He flew up at Modrig again, but instead of dodging, the Rykal charged in to meet him, ramming his clawed fist into Trunks' stomach, easily tearing through cloth and flesh. Trunks could only gasp, eyes wide, as his sword slipped from his grasp to clatter to the ground below. He heard Takira scream and it confirmed what he felt. 

Mordrig held the pose for a moment, savoring the feel of the youth's blood coursing over his arm, then flung his body to the bottom of the crater. He landed and walked towards the writhing half-Saiyan, a gleeful smile on his face. At last! This is why he'd come. 

"Stop where you are!" Mordrig froze. It was a voice he had only heard before in his nightmares, when all his victims arose and killed him; but those were merely dreams! The ground beneath his feet began to tremble, then shake. This was no dream. 

This was Takira. 

At the edge of the crater he saw her, knees bent in a half-crouch, a whirlwind whipping her now-silvered hair. Her eyes had turned that same pale color. In the sepulchral tone she spoke again: 

"No more." 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen 

Mordrig could only stare. Nowhere in his files had he read about humans being able to transform like this. True, she had a Saiyan soul, but this was no Saiyan form, either. Her face bore the look of desperate fury she'd had when he'd bathed her in her son's blood. All she'd managed to do then was scar Mordrig's face. Now-- 

In the blink of an eye she was gone. Bewildered, Mordrig looked around him, finding no sign of the apparition. He began to wonder if he'd really seen her the first time. 

"Yes, you did," came the voice behind him. The next thing he knew his body was sailing upwards, pain shooting through him. She appeared in the air above him, fist raised. He saw an opportunity, lunging forward, jaws gaping. If he could just get a hold of her--he expected her to redirect her punch so he could grab her arm. Instead, she rammed her fist full-force into his mouth and down his throat. He choked and gagged, squirming. She stared into his hateful eyes and grinned. All the energy in her body focused, traveling down her arm, building in her fist, still lodged in his throat. He tried to scream. In her own voice, Takira whispered: 

"Now die." 

The ki exploded inside him and he shattered in a cloud of charred flesh and bone. Still glowing, Takira flew to where Trunks lay, Gohan(recently awake and still dripping a little blood)kneeling next to him, fighting back tears at the muted sounds of agony coming from Trunks. He looked up at Takira, startled. 

"What in the--" 

"Stand back from him," she ordered. Gohan cautiously drew back, watching with a wary eye as Takira knelt over Trunks, nearly sitting on the gaping wound, leaning close to his face. 

"Wake up," she said. Trunks moaned, eyes still squeezed shut. Drawing back her hand, Takira slapped him hard across the face. "Wake up!" 

"Takira!" Gohan shouted angrily, "For the love of kami, can't you see he's--" 

"--dying," she interrupted. "I know; and that's why he must wake up." She turned back to Trunks, who now squinted up at her uncertainly. 

"Ta--Takira?" he choked, blood trickling from his mouth. She nodded, removing Bulma's necklace and placing it around Trunks' neck. 

"If you dare fall asleep, I'll strangle you with it. Close your eyes, but don't let the darkness take you. Keep your eyes closed until I tell you." She smiled. "Trust me, you don't want to see this coming." Grinding his teeth in pain, Trunks did as he was told. Takira stood, raising her arms above her head. Her aura expanded, energy focusing on her outstretched hands. She brought them together above her, and then with a wordless cry, threw the energy ball down into Trunks. 

"No!" screamed Gohan as it burst in a flash of light. Momentarily blinded, he rubbed his eyes, struggling to see. What had she done? Was this some kind of Saiyan mercy-killing ritual? At last he managed to focus. Takira knelt again and held Trunks' face in her hands. Her hair and eyes were black again, as they'd been before. She was no longer god or demon; only a human, badly burnt, bleeding from a dozen places, yet smiling at the same time. She kissed Trunks lightly on the lips. 

"Wake up," she whispered again, this time rising to her feet and stepping back. 

For a long moment there was no response from the still figure on the ground. Then Trunks drew a breath and said faintly: 

"You didn't say I could open my eyes." Takira laughed out loud. 

"Well open them, fool. Get up!" 

Trunks blinked a few times, then with a heartfelt groan, pulled himself to his feet. He reeled, staggering, and Takira stepped forward, placing a burnt arm across his shoulders. His shirt was still torn and his clothing soaked in blood, but body intact. He gave Takira a wondering look. 

"Trunks!" shouted Goten, having pulled himself to the edge of the crater. "You're okay! What happened?" 

"Tell us, Takira," Gohan urged. Takira shrugged. 

"He pissed me off, I killed him. End of story." 

"What about me?" asked Trunks. She smiled. 

"Now you know why dragontears are so rare and valuable." 

"They can heal?" 

"Within limits. They're generally held as a last resort to revive the dying. It's not something you use on anyone with a chance of natural recovery. It can destroy life as well as saving it. Even among strong races, there's about a one-in-five chance that both involved parties would be killed. Fortunately, I was feeling lucky." 

"So we can't use it to patch up Goten?" asked Gohan. 

"I'm afraid not. The best we can do is get him--and you, Gohan, you look like hell--to a hospital and try to get some more of those Senzu seeds." She turned to Trunks. "How are you feeling?" 

"A little sore, but otherwise okay." She let go of him and he stood firmly, no longer staggering. 

"Think you can carry Gohan?" 

"He won't have to carry me," Gohan interjected. "Just fly alongside and I'll be fine. I really don't think I'm in that bad shape." 

"Bullshit," she said, lifting Goten carefully. "Let's go. If nothing else, Yamcha and Pan will more than likely be there, and will want to know how it turned out." 

It was early enough in the morning that the streets were more or less deserted, so at Takira's request they flew, landing outside the hospital. They found Pan in the waiting room, arguing with one of the nurses. With one last disgusted look at the woman, Pan rushed over to them. 

"What happened, guys? Is he gone?" They all knew who she meant. Trunks nodded wearily. Takira shifted her grip on Goten and looked at the nurse Pan had been yelling at. 

"Is she in charge of Yamcha?" 

"Yeah. She wants to know what caused the wound." 

"Tell her it's none of her damn business, and to make room in his ward for two more." Pan gave the group a silent appraisal. 

"Which two?" 

"Gohan and Goten, of course," said Trunks. 

"Of course," she said mockingly, "just because you're soaked in blood and she looks like she got into a fight with a flame-thrower--" 

"Well, I'm fine," Trunks protested, "As to Takira--" 

"It's not as bad as it looks," she muttered. "Which room is Yamcha in?" 

"132B, down the hall and on the right," Pan directed, pointing. "Let's get these two cleaned up." They headed down the hall with a blustering nurse trailing behind. 

When they entered the room, Yamcha was sitting up in bed, propped with pillows, a little pale but apparently well in most other respects. A wide swath of gauze covered his shoulder and chest. 

"I thought you guys would be along to visit. Man, what happened back there?" he asked, looking with concern at the battered warriors. 

"Well, Mordrig's dead and we're alive," Takira said as she laid Goten on an empty bed. He sighed as he relaxed, head sinking into the pillow. 

"I guessed as much," Yamcha said dryly, "though it looks like it was pretty close." Gohan sank wearily onto another bed, wincing a he put a hand to his head. 

"Well, it was, surprisingly enough. For a while there I was sure we were going to lose Trunks." 

"Yet he's still standing. How do you explain that?" 

"Well," Trunks cut in, "It seems that Takira has a few abilities we didn't know about, and that this necklace is more than just a pretty stone." 

"Okay--care to explain?" 

Trunks was about to answer when the pushy nurse burst into the room with one of the resident doctors. If he was taken aback by the number and condition of patients in the room, he didn't show it. Quietly, he dismissed the nurse and shut the door behind him. 

"In all honesty, I don't think I want to know," he began, "so you don't have to tell me. I'll see what I can do for you all, and let you go on your way. Who's first?" 

It was decided that Gohan's head should be bandaged first, then a thorough inspection was made of Goten. Nothing seemed to be out of place, so the doctor simply advised a long period of rest. Takira's sweatshirt bandage was peeled from her arm, the wound cleaned, and a fresh gauze bandage applied, all while the doctor muttered about never having seen such a broad spectrum of injuries in one group. 

"Well, it certainly keeps my job interesting," he said cheerfully, turning to Trunks and noticing for the first time the blood soaking his black shirt and pants. 

"Sweet mother of--for goodness' sake, boy, sit down before you pass out from shock!" He shoved Trunks down onto a bed, pulling up his shirt to find the wound. Takira snickered. 

"What's this? You're soaked to the skin, have a hole in your shirt the size of a softball, and no break in the skin? What on earth--no, no, I won't ask, I don't want to know." He pulled back and sighed. "I take it nothing's wrong with you but the state of your clothes?" 

"More or less," Trunks shrugged. "Sorry." 

"Don't be. When a patient comes in looking like that, I really prefer as little as possible to be wrong with them." He paused, looking around the room. "Anyone else?" Getting no answer, he announced he would be in to check on them later, and took his leave. 

"Pan, could you call home and tell Chichi and Videl not to worry?" Gohan asked. 

"I already did. They said they were on their way, so you'd better be ready to explain." She turned to Trunks. "I also called Bulma. You may want to, uh, wring out your shirt before she sees it and freaks. Just rinse it in the sink or something." As me moved to comply, removing jacket and scabbard, he noticed his missing sword. 

"Ah, shit, I must've dropped it." 

"You had other things on your mind at the time," Takira pointed out. "I'll go get it; I have to pick up my wakazishi anyhow." 

"Come on, I'm the healthy one; let me go." 

"Really, Trunks, I'd prefer to." She paused. "Koretz is still there, and, well, I thought I ought to pay my respects." 

"I'll go with you then." 

"Anything to avoid facing the wrath of Bulma, hmm?" Trunks smiled. 

"Something like that. Let's go." They left through the window, shooting out into the sunlight. Pan watched them go, then turned to the rest. 

"Okay, guys. Who is she?"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen 

Takira gritted her teeth. Even the air rushing over her arm felt like sandpaper on her skin. 'No matter,' she thought. 'With time it'll heal to just another scar.' She had all the time in the world, now. Freed from the burden of revenge, she felt impossibly light and free. She'd never felt this kind of freedom before. A blissful smile crossed her face. 

"You look happy," Trunks commented. 

"I am--for the first time in a quite a while," she sighed. "I never really expected I could defeat Kor--Mordrig. Now that Vegira's death has been avenged, I'm free to engage in other pursuits." 

"Such as?" 

"Well, for one, seeing if I can work that transformation again." 

"You did it before; why couldn't you do it again?" 

"I don't know if I could get that upset again. At least, I hope I never have reason to. If you have to get your guts ripped out for me to transform, I want no part in it." 

"How comforting," Trunks grimaced. 

They were approaching the ravaged hilltop, but much to their surprise, two other figures stood atop it, standing over the mutilated body of Koretz. The two Roc turned as Trunks and Takira approached. One stepped forward boldly. 

"Did you do this?" he snapped, pointing at the body. 

"No," said Takira. "Koretz was killed by Mordrig during the battle. Mordrig is dead." 

"At last," Shael sighed. "Was it Koretz who killed him?" 

"No," she said softly, "I did." 

"You?! You're a human!" 

"Not quite," murmured Trunks. Shael looked confused, then shrugged. 

"Well, whatever you are, the Roc are deeply indebted to you--" 

"No," she interrupted. "There is no debt. Koretz saved my life twice. Perhaps in killing Mordrig I repaid what I owed him." 

"Agreed. We must go now. Thank you and goodbye." 

"Farewell." 

Shael walked back to Dolmit, spoke softly to him, then with twin bursts of ki, they incinerated Koretz's remains. With a final nod to Takira, they climbed into their cramped pod and took off for their ship. 

"Well, that's one less thing to worry about," Takira muttered. "Your sword's down there, Trunks, go ahead and grab it. I think the wakazishi flew over here somewhere." She scanned the grass as Trunks inspected and resheathed his sword. At last she found what she sought and replaced it in the scorched scabbard. They were silent, looking at the crater, the shattered earth, the bloodstains on grass and rocks. Takira sighed. 

"I suppose we ought to get back," she said unhappily. 

"You don't sound too thrilled." 

"I'm just an outsider, Trunks, I've no place at these family affairs. I've gotten too used to my solitude. You go ahead, I'd just get in the way." 

"Forget it," he said firmly. "You no longer have any right to call yourself an outsider. Even if you weren't related to half the people in that room through Goku, by your actions you've proved yourself as an ally and a friend. Your presence will be welcomed and expected." 

"You think Bulma's just going to accept the fact that I bore her husband's child?" 

"It doesn't matter, Takira, but I think she will. She knew Vegeta pretty well, and whatever she may tell you, she did develop a degree of respect for him. I can't imagine she would hold your past against you. Come on," he urged. "You are always free to leave if you want." 

"You keep saying that," she spoke softly, "but I'll tell you something: I don't really think I could leave, even if I wanted to, even if you let me. I just couldn't do it." Trunks smiled faintly. 

"I know. I was hoping you felt that way. Now let's go, before they send out a search party." 

***** 

Chichi paced back and forth between her sons, fussing over them in spite of their protests. She was just too full of energy to sit still. They'd been muttering cryptic comments about some girl named Takira and Goku, but she couldn't imagine what they meant. When she asked them to explain, they hemmed and hawed and said to wait for Takira to return. In Chichi's opinion, they had been waiting far too long. 

At last there came a tap at the window, and she ran to open it. Trunks stepped in, followed by a girl Chichi assumed to be Takira. She decided to waste no time, reaching out to shake the girl's hand. 

"You must be Takira." The girl nodded. "I'm Chichi, Goku's wife. Gohan and Goten said something about you knowing Goku. What's the relationship there?" 

"Oh, not much," Takira murmured nonchalantly. "He's my little brother, is all." 

Bulma, Bra, and Chichi stared dumbly for a moment, before Chichi managed to speak: 

"How?" Takira smiled wearily. 

"I'll give you the cut-and-dry version, seeing as we don't have a whole night to kill. Would you mind if I sat down? For some reason, I'm just exhausted." Trunks snorted. 

"Can't imagine why--" he said under his breath. Takira gave him a look, and with a deep breath to gather her thoughts, launched into the tale. 

***** 

"--and that, approximately, is where the rest of you came in," Takira finished. She was so tired she could barely sit up, but she dared not disappoint her audience. "All in all, it's been an interesting 36 hours." Grunts of assent came from her fellow warriors. She tried to force her eyes to focus. She'd used more energy in her last attack on Mordrig than she'd really had to spare, and now she was feeling the effects profoundly. It was a stupid mistake to have made, but she'd wanted to be absolutely sure of Mordrig's destruction. 

She saw Trunks coming toward her and thought she heard him say something. Gently, he pushed her back until she lay on the pillow, then lifted her legs onto the bed. She sighed and shut her eyes; a moment later she was asleep. 

"Well, when she's right, she's right," Trunks said quietly. "You wouldn't think it possible for that much to happen in that short of a time." 

"Yeah," Chichi murmured. "I was hoping she'd stay awake a little longer, though, so we could talk and get to know her a little more personally." 

"Let her sleep," said Goten. "She's been up for days, fought with Trunks, Yamcha, me, and Mordrig, and raised Trunks from the grave. I think she deserves a little rest." 

"There'll be plenty of time to get to know her, Chichi," Bulma pointed out. "She's staying at Capsule Corp., but between Gohan and Goten, I'm sure she'll be up at your place often enough." 

"What's she going to do now?" asked Pan. "All she's been living for is Mordrig's death and a reunion with Vegeta. One's done, and the other's out of reach." 

"I'm sure she'll find some other purpose," said Trunks. "She may seem delicate but underneath it all she's as tough as any other Saiyan. She won't give up the ghost now that she has a whole new life ahead of her." 

Just then the doctor returned. He looked anxious and apologetic. 

"There's just been a huge accident downtown; a building collapsed, and we need every available bed. I don't mean to rush anybody out, but if any of you is well enough to go home, it would be of tremendous help." 

Goten was still quite painful, but decided that he could stand the trip home. Gohan and Yamcha were deemed too early in recovery to risk going home, and Videl and Bulma agreed to stay with them for the time being. Chichi left with Goten and Pan, and Bra got in Bulma's car, helping her brother arrange the still-sleeping Takira in the back seat. Trunks sat with her to make sure she didn't fall, and they returned to Capsule Corp. Trunks carried Takira up to her room and laid her out on the bed, covering her with a blanket and drawing the curtains so the sunlight wouldn't wake her up. He had a feeling, though, that nothing short of Armageddon would be able to wake her. 

***** 

Gohan lay still, eyes closed. Videl probably thought he was asleep; he didn't care. With his mind he called out again to Kaio-sama. 

'Yes? What is it, Gohan?' 

'I hope I'm not interrupting anything--' 

'Not at all. I was about to congratulate you on defeating Mordrig.' 

'I didn't defeat him, Kaio-sama. I nearly got us all killed.' 

'Nonsense. If you, Goten, and Trunks hadn't gone down, Takira never would have transformed and you'd probably all still be fighting.' 

'I suppose. What do you think of her?' 

'Who, Takira? I really don't know. There's a lot of potential there, but I fear she lacks the discipline to make something of it. I don't know if she can train seriously without a specific goal in mind; she strikes me as the type who needs something to fight for.' 

'Maybe she'll find something here. She seems rather fond of Trunks.' 

'That may be putting it too strongly, but she's definitely protective. Since she feels she failed in protecting Vegira, it's only natural that she'd try to watch over Vegeta's other son.' 

'I don't think Trunks needs another mother. Bulma's already stifling him.' 

'Takira's not the motherly type. I doubt if she mothered Vegira too much. Woman or not, she's a fighter at heart. She reminds me of Goku that way.' 

'No kidding. She'll probably pick a fight with me the moment I'm out of this bed.' 

'Consider taking her on, helping her train. You've done well so far with Videl and Pan.' 

'Thank you, but I don't know if she'd let me. I don't think she trusts me.' 

'She's only known you for a day, Gohan; at this point she won't trust anyone unless she has to.' 

'I know. Maybe that's why she makes me nervous. It would be so easy for her to turn on us--' 

'--except for the fact that she would gain nothing by it. Even if she has no higher standard of ethics, it's in her best interests not to cross you. Keep an eye on her, but I doubt she'll take action against you without good reason.' 

'I wish that were more comforting. There was something else I wanted to ask you, though.' 

'Yes?' 

'I can't help but wonder about Mordrig. Virtually everyone we've fought so far has had a least one other associate, usually more. Was Mordrig really working alone?' 

'Gohan, I wish I could tell you. All I can say is this: if Mordrig was working as part of a larger organization, you'll find out soon enough.' 

'I was hoping you wouldn't say that. It's exactly what I was thinking.' 

'There's nothing to be done for it now, Gohan, so you may as well get some rest. You won't be able to do much of anything in your present condition.' 

Gohan sighed. 'True enough. Thanks, Kaio-sama.' 

'Anytime Gohan.' Gohan drifted off to sleep and Kaio was left alone with his thoughts. 'It seems almost too strange to be a coincidence. Whatever Takira's purpose was in coming to Earth, I don't think she's finished yet.'


End file.
